Burnt: A mystery
by FlamingMaple
Summary: A murderer is loose in Forks. Bella and Jacob's discovery of a mysterious puddle of human blood coincides with Jacob's missing cousin, Dwayne. They set out to investigate his disappearance, and discover much more than they bargained for. Set in the latter part of during New Moon. New characters. AU elements. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

As Bella walked into the garage, she was shocked to see the red bike standing up, actually looking like a motorbike, rather than an assemblage of spare parts.

"Whoa," she breathed out, "Jake, you're amazing."

He smiled, and laughed. "I'm glad you like it." He watched her run her hand over the chassis, squeezing the throttle. "I suppose," he added quietly, "if I had a brain, I would have dragged it about it."

Bella looked sharply at him. "Why?"

Jacob dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet back and forth. He answered eventually, speaking slowly. "Bella, if I told you that I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you have said?"

She didn't answer immediately, and Jacob looked up at her, watching her smile gently, and look at him thoughtfully. "I would say...that's too bad, but I'll bet we could figure out something else to do. If we got really desperate, we could even do homework."

Or anything, really, she thought, silently. Heck, even play cops and robbers if that was what it took.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "Wanna go try them out?"

"Yes!" Bella squealed, trying not to show just how much.

"Let's go!" He said, rolling the first bike out the door.

Their giddiness was infectious, and they left, their footprints obscured by the long lines of tracks left by the bike tires.


	2. The forest, savage, rough, and stern

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed." - Charlotte Bronte

"What is that?" Bella asked, peering at the tangy, dark sludge. "That's not—"

"Yeah, it is," said Jacob, standing up, pulling her up, and away from it. His nose was wrinkled in distaste, and Bella's mirrored it, but with a greener tinge.

"Was it—?" she started.

"No, not vampires," he answered, letting his eyes glance at her, seeing the play of fear and disappointment.

Fricking vampires, he thought, a small sigh escaping him.

"Anything else you recognise?" she ventured quietly.

"No, and it's strange—there are no smells of anything else," he finished, his nose to the air.

"Maybe someone got hurt, and they left to get help?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't think so," he said quietly. "That's a lot of blood. You don't lose that much and walk away from it. There's a body, somewhere. I don't think nearby, but somewhere," his hand gestured, he realised, vaguely to the east, away from the coast.

She shuddered, "Let's call my dad from your place," and turned to walk back to where they'd left their bikes.

"Uh," said Jacob, looking at her, "you sure about that?"

"Yeah, why?" she said, squishing her eyebrows together.

"Well, what are you going to tell him?"

"That we came across a giant pool of blood—that it's pretty suspicious." she tilted her head forward, eyebrows arched.

"And he's going to ask how we know it's human. And why we were here."

"So? They can check to see if it's human. There are tire marks all over the place here—it isn't like it's a stretch that we would think it's human, and not an animal."

"Sure, but this place is known for people coming to ride bikes and ATVs. He's going to have some questions." The thought of Charlie's disapproval, and worse, his forbidding Bella to see him lurched uncomfortably, somewhere deep in his gut.

"Right," she sighed, pausing to consider this implication. "But, we can't just leave this Jacob—someone is hurt, or dead. I can't just—no, we need to tell him. Doesn't matter if he finds out anything else."

The vision of Charlie's inflamed face, yelling at Jacob for endangering his only child, became a little clearer in Jacob's mind.

"Why don't we take a look around, then," he said, trying to stave off losing Bella's company, "see if we can find anything. You know, play Sherlock for a bit." He grinned widely, imagining this could extend their time together.

"OK," she said, biting her lip, one arm clenched around the other, the perpetual grip she kept on herself tight as ever. "Why don't we ride up a bit further into the woods there—where the curve begins," she said, her chin pushed up to the north-east, where the road slipped in between the trees.

"'K," said Jacob, pulling the bikes up and walking them to Bella, "here, try not to crash again," he grinned, "not that I don't enjoy playing the knight in shining armour." He realised his mistake as soon as he began saying the words. Her face had lost its form, an amorphous sadness sweeping up it as she swallowed.

"Sure," Bella mumbled, trying to put her features back together, head down, as she pretended to check her bike.

"Join me when you're ready," Jacob offered, kicking down the starter, and moving slowly up the road. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the answer of Bella's bike behind him.

She'd arrived at his place one day, the bikes in the back of the truck. Her presence an unexpected gift. But a broken one. Any mention of anything romantic—or vampire-related—sent her scuttling back into her cocoon.

Definitely cocooning, he thought, glancing back to see her slowly set the kickstand of her bike, one arm casually wrapping around her midsection as she walked towards him, her eyes carefully avoiding his.

"So Sherlock," he said, "where to?"

She gave a small smile at this. "I thought we might split up. Cover more ground that way?"

"No way," came Jacob's reply. Too fast, he knew, from the furrowing of her forehead. "If someone has been hurt, by someone else, I don't want us alone. Let's look around together."

"You know, they could be gone," she said, jerking her head the way she wanted him to follow. "Could have been a bike or ATV accident, and someone took them to the hospital." She glanced back to see his reaction to this idea.

"That blood is pretty fresh, Bella, no more than a few hours old," he said, tapping his nose. "Trust me."

"What, are you like an expert on that now, too?" she muttered, but good naturedly. "Middle-aged man." She retorted to his eye roll.

"I'd say we're getting closer on the age and experience front here," he grinned back.

"Hmph," she grunted, without commitment.

They passed the next few minutes in silence, ambling through the few remaining ferns that braved the pacific winter, under the deep protection of the forest canopy. Waxy salal, and prickly oregon grape leaves rasped at their clothes as they pushed through the bare openings in the foliage.

A sharp scent brought Jacob up short, his hand gripping firmer than it should, over Bella's forearm. "Hold up," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Let me get a better whiff of whatever that is." He raised his nose, trying to understand what he was smelling. The picture became sharper.

He swallowed, not sure it could be.

"I'm going to change," he said, his tone no longer the even calm he'd managed, a tremor sliding up it.

Bella looked at him sharply. "What is it?" she demanded. "Is it—"

"No—I—" he sighed. "I don't know, and I want to be sure. Stay here," he added firmly.

He slipped quietly behind a tree, and emerged as quickly in his other self.

Tense, Bella tried to make herself part of the tree bark she could feel behind her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to memorize the intricate patterns of the rough texture. It can't be. She told herself firmly, holding down the tremulously hopeful but what if it is that answered back. Several long, and deep breaths later, she dared to peek. Jacob was now a wolfy shadow in the dark of the wood, and her body felt more like her own again.

"See," she said to herself, "nothing."

Except, another voice answered. One that rung like a crystal, and chilled the answering flush in her cheeks.

"I wouldn't say I'm that," it said, several trees in front of her.

She swallowed the shudder that was building.

"Jacob," she whispered, feeling her hands beginning to tremble. Was this real? Were the visions...extending themselves? Moving beyond, just...Edward? She flinched at the name.

She hadn't realised she'd closed her eyes again, until she opened them when the fur of Jacob's side brushed against her, trembling with his growl.

"I mean you no harm," came the voice, this time its speaker moving into the lesser shade of the sparser canopy. "I was...curious. Your smell," he added, nodding, as if this clarified things.

Bella froze.

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly. The clouds thinned at this point, revealing a head of pure white hair, and a pale face that put vampiric pallor to shame. He was utterly colourless, except for his eyes. They were a buttery amber, framed with startlingly white lashes. The whiteness was made more shocking by the black clothes that covered him—hood, long coat, and gloves. "You have known my kind," he said. "Your hand," he gestured, pointing lightly.

"Yes," said Bella, carefully silencing the many voices that wanted to be heard inside her.

Jacob's growl grew louder.

"I don't think he'll hurt us, Jake," she said.

Jacob answered with a snarl in the direction of the newcomer.

"You're not safe here," Bella said, not knowing why she cared to warn this stranger. She tilted her head in Jacob's direction.

"I do not harm humans," he said.

"They won't ask if you do," said Bella.

"They?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"They," she replied, folding her arms.

"How remarkable."

They stood, watching each other, Bella with equal parts curiosity and nervous bravado.

"I'm Godwin," he said. "And you are?"

Jacob's growl morphed into a loud, snarling roar.

"I'm Bella," she answered. "Your eyes—they're not red," she said, wondering, hoping.

"I am not like the others you've met. I do not harm humans," he repeated, "I live on the blood of animals." He paused, waiting for a response. When Bella remained silent, he added, "your hand—you are not one of us. Yet, you were bitten. Did you—how did you retain yourself?" The tone of his voice was wistful, and Bella could almost feel the longing behind it.

She tried not to think of him as she said the words, but the grief was making foot holds in the lining of her stomach, crawling up her windpipe. "Another," her voice broke, "another...of your kind, he saved me—before it could spread." She swallowed, the folded arms becoming a desperate grip around herself.

"You're in pain," Godwin said quietly. "Great pain." It wasn't a statement of pity, or empathy, but a plain observation, made with the same polite conversationality that one would use to comment on a colleague's choice of sweater.

She said nothing, but slid fractionally closer to Jacob.

Jacob was pushing Bella gently with his body, trying to nudge her back, away from the threat he saw. There'd been enough show and tell for this afternoon, and the pack would be here soon. He wanted her out of the way—of this extra pale pale-faced freak, who was additionally freakish for smelling like almost nothing, and seemed to be able to sense feelings. He wasn't going to find out if he was trustworthy. The only good vampire was a dead one.

"He might know something, Jacob," said Bella, trying to shove him back from pushing her away, "and seeing as you have no plans to talk, then I need to." She raised her eyebrows, and set her lips in a grim line. She meant business.

"There's human blood, down by the foot of the hill," she said, gesturing in the direction they'd come.

"Yes, there is," replied Godwin, still and composed, gloved hands loose at his sides.

"Do you know what happened to the person?" said Bella, feeling a bit flustered by his nonchalance.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"If you know our kind, I'm surprised you have to ask."

"Few of your kind are above the temptation," she replied tersely, holding up her hand by way of illustration.

"This is true, but no, it wasn't me. And," he added, "I do not know who did. I have not scented others of my kind near here. Recently, anyway."

Jacob had finally stopped growling, but was impatiently swishing his tail at odd intervals, and at this statement, gave the wolf equivalent of an eye roll, and a snort.

"Your companion is most...entertaining. And, I think, amused by me," he smiled shyly. "I so rarely encounter….others. It is...novel," he said.

"You don't have a coven?" asked Bella.

"No, I am not...welcome….with my kind." And the vast array of unhappy memories of his encounters swirled to the surface.

"Why?" Bella asked, unable to hold back. She knew it was rude...but somehow, it didn't seem to matter right now.

"Do you not have eyes, child?" here he gestured to his face and hair. "Can you not see a curse when it is laid?"

"You're an albino, right? That's hardly cursed," said Bella.

"Ah, I'm sorry to leave this conversation, but I believe 'they' are here." And he was gone. A whisper in the ferns where his feet had rested was the only clue to his presence.

Other eyes and forms were appearing in the dim recesses of the woods.

Whoa. I saw him...where'd he go?...I know! Crazy hey? And you couldn't really smell him Jake? Crap. How are we going to tell when he comes back? Or if he's really gone...and those eyes, dude, creepy! No coven, I guess that's good...wow man, Bella looks hot.

Bella didn't understand the sudden snarling and yipping between them, but knew to jump back when she felt Jacob's fur bristle.

"Could someone please tell me what's going on?" She asked, her voice rising in an unwanted panic. "Not everyone reads minds around here!"

Sam's stiff stride out of the treeline identified him.

"We gotta check for others, Bella. Jake—go change, get her home. We need to make sure we're clear….somehow," he muttered, shifting back as he moved behind a scrum of alder saplings.

"C'mon Bella, I'll get you back." His grim smile was close-mouthed, and a bit sheepish. The order didn't sit well with him, and he felt the pack's priorities could be better served by splitting up to look at both mysteries. But, he hold himself for the umpteenth time, he wasn't the Alpha. And he had himself to thank for it.

"Jake, no—the blood." She said, not moving as he went to extend his arm behind her, carefully not touching, but herding her. She stood her ground. "We can't just leave—what if someone's hurt? Or there are clues?"

He shifted his weight to rest on one leg, folding his arms in front of himself. Why would convincing Bella to leave be easy? I mean, really, he thought to himself. She's not STUBBORN or anything.

"I'll ask Sam if we can keep our eyes open on that front too. If you're really that concerned we can come back tomorrow," he added, frankly hoping she would let it go by that point.

"You promise?" She asked, her voice firm.

He nodded, accepting the relief of at least being able to get her to safety.

"Come on," he said, "I'll race you back. Loser gets to clean up the lunch dishes!" Then he took off at an impossible run, assured in the safety of the pack around her.

"Jake, you suck!" She yelled after him. "And I don't agree to your deal!"

* * *

For the sake of peace, they'd agreed that while Jacob was the winner, Bella was definitely the better towel whipper. After a few rounds of getting his shoulders snapped by a well aimed dish-towel, he'd joined her at the sink.

"You sure you don't want to join them?" asked Bella, worrying she was keeping him from his idea of 'fun': hunting deadly creatures. She knew, intellectually that he and his pack had not ever been harmed, and were likely safe, but still, the thought of him going out to hunt for them still terrified her.

"Ow!" He yipped, as she landed a well place whip to his backside. "That's for leaving me alone to do it for the first five minutes," she said. "So much for equal rights around here," she muttered.

"Equal rights, shmeaqual rights," he said through a grin, "privilieged white woman," ducking another towel snap. He grabbed the towel from her and held it above his head. "I think I'm good without more abuse from the invading colonial powers, pale-face."

This, of course, left Jacob's underarms dangerously open to attack, and Bella grinned, and bit her lip, launching her fingers knuckle deep into his ticklish ribs.

All was going remarkably well for Bella, until Billy turned the corner in his wheelchair, just as Bella had launched another attack on Jacob's already tender sides. They were suddenly, all three tangled together amidst a chorus of "Oof," "gnah!" and a loud "shit!" from Jacob.

"Alright. If you two are done, you might move Dwayne's bags into your sister's room," said Billy, throwing the dish towel, that had landed on him, into the laundry hamper by the door.

"Sure Dad," said Jacob, dusting himself off, and helping Bella up. He could see a bruise forming where she'd landed on her arm. She seemed fine though, similarly whisking dust-bunnies of her sweater. "Where is Dwayne, anyway?"

"Went for a walk after he got here. Said he was goin' up to Black's road."

Bella and Jacob stopped their movements in synchronized silence.

"Black's road? You sure?" asked Jacob.

"Yeah, why?" asked Billy, rolling himself to the counter, and pouring coffee into a cup, keeping a careful eye open for any sudden movements from Bella.

"We were just there, and we didn't see him," answered Jacob. "And...well, there was a big pool of blood—human blood. Did he say when he'd be back?" he asked.

"Dwayne? Ha! No, he wouldn't hold himself to a time—and no, you don't need to worry about him. He's a blessed soul. Hasn't so much as smelled trouble in his entire life. No one would want to hurt him," said Billy, casually waving a hand at Jacob. "He's probably stopped at Clive's for a soda."

"When did he leave," asked Jacob, checking the clock.

"'Bout two, I'd say," said Billy, sipping at his coffee.

"It's five now," said Jacob to himself, looking at Bella, "he'd of had time to get there before we did. It's a long walk, though. Someone must've seen him. He went through town, right?"

Billy nodded, eyes closed, nose deep in his coffee.

"He's fine, you two. He'll pitch up later. And if it isn't later. It isn't late enough. Dwayne's like that. He comes and goes. Ask his wife."

"Sure dad," said Jacob, but he didn't sound convinced.

Bella didn't seem convinced either, and felt her mouth twist to the side.

"I should get you home, hey?" he said, "so Charlie doesn't miss you?"

"Yeah, guess so," she answered, pushing forward from the counter.

As they parked in front of her house, she turned to him in the cab. "Tomorrow, right? We'll go look again," she said, not breaking eye contact.

"Yep," he said. "I promised. If the others don't find anything."

"I'll call you in the morning, 'K?" They parted at the door, Bella heading inside to get dinner started, and Jacob disappearing into the woods, his other self ready to watch for the pale stranger far too interested in the friend he had, and the woman he hoped would love him. Someday.

The night brought itself, frigid and clear, a rare frosting on the stubborn green of the coast. His coat joined in the frosting, Jacob remaining as still as the plants around him, eyes trained on the window, whose thin panes guarded Bella.


	3. So bitter is it, death is little more

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"So, did your cousin make it home?" Bella ventured, running a brush through her hair while one hand held the phone.

"No," said Jacob, shortly. "And I can't seem to make my dad worry about it—at all."

"I couldn't get my dad to worry about it last night, but...maybe he will now. I'll go see him, and come down after, K'?"

"Sure, we'll be at Emily's."

"We?"

"Pack. Meeting today."

"Oh. I'll wait 'til you're done."

"No—come. You're totally welcome." Jacob's voice had taken too much energy, and Bella grimaced. Was he getting the wrong idea? No, she told herself, he already had the wrong idea. She needed to be clear about what they were.

She sighed. "OK, I'll come after seeing Charlie. 'Bout an hour?"

"Yup—sounds good. See you then."

"Bye," she said, hoping to sound nonchalant.

"Bye!" Jacob's voice carried more energy than she muster on her best day. She smiled, thinking of the sunshine he managed to carry around with him.

The drive to station was pleasant, marked by the rare sunshine of a winter day. The green was vivid, framed by the unusually vibrant blue of the ocean. The scent of pine needles, their resin warmed in the sun, made a heady musk. The night would be cold—colder than they'd had in a few weeks, but worth the price of a day in the sun's radiance. She paused, outside the station, to breath in the forest's perfume.

"Bella? You lock yourself out or something?" Came Charlie's voice, as he stepped out of his cruiser, a sheaf of paperwork in his hands.

"Very funny, Dad," said Bella.

"What brings you my way?"

"Dwayne still hasn't shown up," she offered, shrugging her shoulders, but furrowing her brow.

"Is Billy worried?"

"Not at all," she admitted, wishing she could say differently.

"Well, it's been...not quite a day?"

She nodded.

"If Billy or Jacob want, I can launch a search at forty-eight hours, but not until then." He eyed Bella. Her worry was unusual. Something else was up.

"Is there something else about this that has you worried?"

Bella wavered momentarily, wondering if she should tell him. So many secrets already, she thought.

"Well," she began, "when we were walking at Black's road—that's where Billy said Dwayne went—we found a pool of blood."

Billy looked up sharply. "Blood?"

"Yeah, I mean, Jacob thought it was probably from an animal, but..well, it was creepy. You can't be sure until you test, right?" She focused on keeping her features level and even, and hoped Jacob would forgive her this lie.

Charlie blew his breath out of his mouth, "I wish you'd told me this yesterday." Running his hand over his head, he sighed, "OK, I'll send someone out to take a look, but I don't know if we can get anything after it's been there for so long." He turned to walk into the depot, but turned back abruptly, "no going into the woods today. Understand? Not even with Jacob."

Bella nodded, eyes down. She was preoccupied with the thought going-if she wanted to catch Jacob.

Her truck rumbled its protest as she pushed it to sixty for the long, straight stretch into La Push. Finally slowing, she took the turn-off to Emily's, hoping she'd catch them before they headed off.

She was in luck. The pack meeting was just breaking up, and Jake broke into a light jog to meet her, his face a wide grin.

"Hey Pale Face," he said.

"You might have good reason to call me that," she said sheepishly "I told my dad about the pool of blood."

"Oh," said Jacob. "How'd that go?" He envisioned a purple-faced Charlie, sputtering angry words at him, forbidding him from seeing Bella. His breakfast curdled in his stomach.

"Fine, he's sending someone to look, but...well, I told him you said it was animal blood," she looked down, embarrassed by this lie.

"So?" He asked.

"I don't like to lie, and I don't like implicate other people in it when I do," she said quietly, embarrassed to be made to say as much.

"You make it sound like you're a pathological liar, Bella," Jacob laughed.

Bella's deep blush reminded him that much of her life had been shrouded in secrecy, and no doubt, lies.

His visceral reaction to all things vampire-related became just a titch bit stronger. Particularly in relation to one specific vampire.

"You're a good person, Bella," he said quietly, "and you've protected the pack's secret, which I think falls under 'noble causes.' I think you can let yourself off the moral hook."

She smiled a bit at that. "Come on in for a bit, while I talk to Sam. Emily made a really good breakfast. Like, Martha Stewart grade amazing."

He was careful not to touch her, but gently gestured with his arms. Herding, he mused. He grinned wryly at the thought, wishing he could simply take her hand.

The house smelled of french toast, some kind of tangy sauce, and cinnamon. Sparse remains of a larger meal were scattered around the kitchen—large bowls with small amounts of whipped cream, thick back bacon, and what smelled like blackberry preserves teased a growl out of Bella's stomach.

"Let me get you something," called Emily, clearing things away.

"Oh, no, I'm fine—let me help you," Bella said, not wanting to add to the work load. She let her lips curl at the thoughtlessness of the boys—the "pack" she grunted mentally. They certainly acted like it sometimes.

"It's OK, Bella, sit down. You help them, and they protect us. I can at least get you something to eat. Your stomach growls almost as loudly as Sam's," she said, smiling behind a curtain of dark hair.

"I'm not sure how I help," Bella said, honestly perplexed.

"Oh, you help. Trust me. You keep Jacob in good spirits, and that's a lot to do." She slid a full plate in front of Bella, turning back to pour a glass of orange juice as well. Setting it beside the plate, she sat down in the seat opposite, reaching for her coffee.

Bella took a bite, and paused. "Wow, this is amazing," she said, "what do you put in this?"

"And this is almost warm," Emily said, making a face as she set the cup down, "yeuch."

Refreshing her cup, she sat down again, this time slowly stirring in the fresh cream she brought with her. Bella watched it cloud into the cup, the whorls and eddies settling into a caramel coloured homogeneity.

"It's the freshly grated cinnamon in the butter. You sprinkle it into the pan right before you add the bread."

"Wow. Those boys don't know how good they've got it."

"Perhaps not, but I know how good I have it. It's the least I can do." She smiled, lost in a happy thought, the drift of her lips climbing upwards. The smile reached her elegant cheekbones.

"OK Bella! Ready?" came Jacob's voice, followed by his energetic form.

"Sure, yeah," Bella said, hurriedly swallowing the last chunk of toast. "Thank you Emily—that was amazing," and before she could protest, washed her dish and cup, and set them to dry in the dishrack.

Jacob tapped his foot impatiently while he waited.

"Why don't we walk up Black's road? See if we can find Dwayne?" asked Bella.

Jacob nodded, but waited until they were in Bella's truck before he added, "but not into the woods. I don't want to take any risks."

"That's fine," Bella said, surprised at the unexpected disappointment she felt, "Dad asked me to stay out of them, even with you around." She grinned. "He thinks you carry bear spray."

They both laughed at the absurdity of this.

"Maybe we should, you know, just in case. I mean, what's a gigantic, supernatural wolf going to do if he runs into a bear?" Jacob snickered.

They were both bent over, tears streaming down their faces.

When they fully recovered, small giggles still erupting every few minutes over the slightest provocation, they pulled away from Emily's, and drove to Jacob's, leaving the truck so they could trace Dwayne's steps.

After about thirty minutes, they'd made it to Clive's, the local convenience come dry goods, pawn shop, and local hangout for La Push. John Lahote, the proprietor was bent over the backside of an ancient ice machine, long defunct at the side of the store.

"You folks need anything, let me know," he called as they stopped out front.

"Thanks, actually, I was wondering if you'd seen my dad's cousin Dwayne yesterday. He would have walked up this way in the afternoon."

"Dwayne's in town eh? Haven't seen him in what, twenty years?" He smiled, and shook his head, either enjoying, or regretting the past. "Surprised he didn't come in to say 'hi,' but maybe he woulda expected my dad here."

"So you didn't see him then?"

"Naw, would like to though. He head home already or something? Or get lost?" He grinned widely at this last suggestion.

"Well, he didn't come back last night. I'm a little worried. My dad isn't though."

"Ha! No, if you knew him well, you wouldn't be. He'll turn up. Don't worry." He turned back to fixing the ice machine.

"That seems to be the consensus," Jacob muttered. "Thanks John," he said, looking at Bella, and jerking his head in the direction of the road, now heading due north to the rise of the forest. "Come on, let's see if we can find anything," he said.

She nodded, and they set off, eyes sweeping carefully over the terrain for anything unusual.

"Do you know what he was wearing yesterday?" She asked.

"No, why?"

"Well, it would be helpful when we get to the higher terrain to keep an eye out for any scraps of fabric. Or distinct shoe patterns. I looked around your place, but couldn't see any footprints to match."

"No, the ground's still too hard for that right now," Jacob said.

"Not if he's a big guy," Bella replied, pointing to the light imprint Jacob's foot had left.

"But he's not," said Jacob, eyeing his sizeable footprint, "he's just a bit bigger than you. Small for a guy."

"Easy prey for an animal," said Bella, "or something else. You sure you haven't found traces of...anything?" She couldn't bring herself to name the creatures.

"No, and we looked." His lips pressed into a firm line. The empty search had been frustrating for them all. That extra white freak was helpfully extra freaky and unsmellable. Fricking Vampires.

"He...said he didn't hurt humans." Her voice was small, offered as if something might crack, if she said the words too loudly.

Jacob made a derisive noise in his throat.

Bella swallowed up the rest of her words.

They walked on in a silence that stretched as wide as a river of empty words.

Jacob turned to face her, stopping their steady walk. "Do you really believe that?" His face was openly curious.

"I do. He seemed...honest."

Jacob worked hard to still the emotions that wanted to do gymnastics over his face. He nodded, acknowledging her words. His inner thoughts were far less charitable.

"He seemed...different." She let the words hang there, and turned to continue their walk. Jacob's hand stopped her.

"You can't trust them, Bella. Any of them. I'd think you would know that better than any of us." He sucked in his breath at the end of his own words, waiting for her to scuttle back into her shell.

But she didn't.

She exploded.

"Don't you judge me Jacob Black!" and then stormed off up the hill. Directly into the woods.

"Bella!" He called, not wanting to chase her further, "Can you stay out of the woods—please?"

She ignored him, and lengthened her stride.

"Come on Bella! Your dad will kill me! And then you. Please—stay out of the woods!" He balled his fists, and then pulled at his hair, wondering if he should run after her, go with her, or just pick her up and carry her back to his place. The last, and least wise of those options became a longer thought than it should have been, and ended in ways that he knew he shouldn't entertain.

He settled for taking a deep breath, and waited for her to blow off steam. Looking around, he took stock of silence, and solitude they had found themselves in. He stepped behind a thicket of winter-withered blackberry canes, and let his other self become apparent, waiting on what he hoped would be nothing.

Bella's steam carried her up past where the pool of blood was, eyes useless for clues, and into the dark of the woods. The soothing scents of wind-bruised cedar, and a thick blanket of pine needles slowed her breathing, and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears settle to a dull whirr.

The cold damp reached far deeper in the shady pools of the forest canopy. She zipped her jacket up further, and settled her hands into her pockets. Leaning her upper back against a tree, she let the wash of memory have its way with her.

So rarely did she allow this, but at the moment, it was just too much to bury. She felt again those cold hands on her cheeks, and the answering flush of her body to his lips. The sigh of memory became a real one, and she opened her eyes to the mid-day darkness of the woods.

She waited, and was not disappointed when the aching emptiness reasserted itself, and she slid to the base of the tree, resting her back against the reassuring roughness of the bark. She pressed her back into it, willing the sensation to overcome the nothingness that threatened to swallow her up.

Maybe it would better, she thought.

No, she said herself, no. I can't do that to Charlie. Or mom.

Or Jacob. She frowned at what he'd said, but...the truth hurts sometimes.

Moving herself through the deep breathing that stilled the worst of the inner torment, she tightened her arms around herself, a visceral reaction to the emptiness. Breathe, she coached her body, in, and out.

She'd lost track of the time, but when the worst had passed, Bella realised the dull shadows cast by the thin cloud layer that had swept in over the day, had shifted.

Crap.

It was late, and she'd broken her promise. I should really go back, she thought. And apologise to Jacob. Standing, she caught her finger on a rough edge of the tree, and a small cut welled up, the blood trickling eagerly down to her wrist.

A low growl interrupted her thoughts.

The whirring of a black shape flitted past her, and the sickening wet snap of bone sent her own into a jellied numbness.

Something had just killed...something.

The disordered thump of a lifeless body, let fall, reached her ears.

In her fear, Bella's mind came to its own conclusions: I guess I do want to live. She could feel her hands shaking, as she tried to steady herself, getting ready to run, knowing she couldn't move fast enough.

"Are you hurt?" came the voice.

Godwin.

"No." Her voice shook in time with her hands.

"You've cut yourself."

He came slowly into view, a tentative ten feet from her.

"Did you just—?" She couldn't finish the question.

"Oh," he said, "the cougar. Sorry, it was coming for you—I didn't have time to warn you." He shrugged, and looked away in the direction where he'd left the carcass.

Bella's heart rate was slowing. She swallowed, and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

It was right about then that Jacob arrived, angry and wolf-shaped.

"I'm fine Jacob! He saved me—apparently, from a cougar." She was still gripping the tree behind her with both hands. "It's OK," she said, a bit quieter.

"Thank you," she added, looking at Godwin, "for stopping it." She avoided looking where she knew she'd see its body.

Jacob whined, nosing her hand. "I'm fine," she said again. "It's just a scratch." He growled this time, and lifted his head in Godwin's direction.

"I do not harm humans. And I will not tell you again."

This time, his vanishing seemed even faster, and more impossible than before. The dark earth was unmarked where he stood.

"Did I just really see him?" asked Bella, peering over where he'd been.

Jacob blew out a breath, and panted, nodding.

"Sorry, Jake," Bella muttered, "and thank you, for coming," she mumbled.

He grunted in response, and nudged her hand towards the light of the road. Taking the hint, she followed him into the light of day.

He lingered behind the trees, and emerged, himself again, a solemn-faced boy.

"I think I'm done for the day, Bella. Head back?" He raised his eyebrows, but his lips remained a grim line.

"Sure," she said quietly, and they began what Bella suspected would be a long, and uncomfortable walk home.

They were spared their awkwardness by the arrival of two police cruisers.

Charlie stepped out onto the road, another deputy with him. "Go on ahead Doug, I'll catch up in a bit," he said, pointing up towards where Bella and Jacob had been. "I'm going to pretend you all had the common sense not to completely ignore my request to stay. Out. of. The woods." He looked darkly at Bella, and then Jacob. "Hop in Bella, I'll give you a ride back."

"It's OK, Dad, I need to get my truck—"

"Get in, Bella," he said, not turning to look at her, but keeping his eyes on Jacob.

"Dad—"

"GET IN!"

Stunned by sharp words, and already shaky, Bella slid herself into the front of the cruiser, arms securely wrapped around herself.

Charlie turned his back to her, facing Jacob. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could see Jacob's face. It had morphed from anger, to guilt, to shame.

"Suit yourself," Charlie muttered, climbing back in. Making a few quick calls, he watched Jacob walk away in the direction of home.

"Um, aren't we offering Jacob a ride?" Bella ventured, quietly, tentatively.

"Said he didn't want one," Charlie said gruffly, shifting the car abruptly into gear. The gravel on the road shifted and sprayed as he spend back into town.

The ride to Billy's was mercifully short, and fraught with Charlie's anger and anxiety.

Pulling up in front of the house, he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. "You're grounded. Go home. We'll talk later."

Taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slowly, Bella nodded once, and gritted out a "fine." Slamming the door behind her, she stormed over to her truck, and started it more aggressively than it deserved. The gears protested as she shifted into drive, and took the slowest possible speed home she could.

Once her anger had subsided, she grumpily, and then remorsefully acknowledged to herself that Charlie had a right to be mad. He'd been the one to find bodies—bodies that he couldn't possibly know were the result of vampires, and not animals.

The thought of them reminded her—with some discomfort—of Godwin. Brushing the hair from her face, her heart raced, as her mind came to conclusions beyond what it could make sense of.

Not wanting to be another discovered body, she pulled over, sitting perfectly still in her seat.

He hadn't reacted to her blood. At all.

The memory of his tawny eyes, and pale skin were foremost in her mind. Maybe he—well, maybe he was different?

Perhaps he could help?

She snorted at this, initially, but didn't dismiss it out of hand.

Maybe he could.

Intent on the possibility, she checked carefully before pulling back onto the road, purposeful in her driving. No longer irritated at being sent home, she resurrected her computer from its deep slumber, and waited for the scratching wail of the dial-up connection.

Her search, as before, when she met—she didn't think of the name. Before, she told herself, this didn't help much. And now, she wondered, clicking on links, waiting the length of ten breaths for them to load...this isn't helping much either.

She switched it off, and walled off the part of her mind that wanted to dig further. Resigned to purposeful tasks, she picked up The Inferno, and waded into the second circle of Hell.

Somewhere between there, and the fifth circle, Bella found herself cozied up in bed against the chill of the thin windows. Between the fifth and the sixth, the weariness of the day caught up with her, and she had descended into her own personal hell: one with dreams.

Godwin had come to rest on what he now regarded as his own personal real estate, a branch high in the arms of an ancient fir, its limbs sturdy and spry. His practised immobility was tested, as the wind lodged in the nooks and crannies of its twigs, letting his weight rock to the motion of the tree.

Feelings, ones that not lived since his turning, were making themselves known. She was asleep. So early, he wondered, human behaviour a complexity he could no longer comprehend. Did one sleep during the day? Perhaps this had changed, since he knew the rhythms of slumber.

Sleep he could not, but dreams, he could offer. And so he remembered.

And so Bella knew.

He had waited, patiently, in the shade of an ancient yew, well beyond the pasture wall of the village grazing lands. The tree guarded the entrance to the small, but dense wood that marked the boundary of his family's world. Jakob would meet him here. He remembered his excitement, the tenseness of his hands, and the heat in his pale cheeks, so unused to the sun.

The icy grip of cold hands had been a shock, but nothing compared to the bite, the stinging that grew, and became a burning—a moment in the sun too long—and then morphed into the fire that had calded him as a young child. As it grew, the terror of its totality rocked his body. In all the heat, he heard the shimmering words, "Quiet. They will hear. I will protect you."

He remembered the blur of images, the darkness of the wet cave, and the words and water that did nothing to stop the fire spreading through him.

When the burning of his body ended, the one in his soul began.

"What have you done?" He asked the man who had bit him. "What are you? And what am I?"

"You are an angel, now," he'd said, his grin devilish, "like me."

But Godwin had known the truth. Watching his own movements, and the speed of it, and burning hunger that raked his throat, he knew better. "This is the devil's work!"

"Peace, child, it is not. Follow me," and taking his hand, its mutual warmth shocked Godwin. Horrified, and yet, curious too, he followed. The wonder of their speed was breathtaking, and the world of night seemed more alive than any day he'd ever faced. Stopping in the moonlit shadows by a small clearing, the stranger motioned him to wait, and smell, and listen. He did, and the nature of their prey became clear. He could hear the sound of the blood throbbing in their veins, and the smell of it searing his throat. A pale finger crooked at him, and a whispered, "they are bandits—thieves, and worse." Looking with his keener senses, he could see, clearly, the young children tied to the trees, the puffiness of their eyes marks where tears had run. The swelling of their small bodies testament to the brutality with which they'd been taken, and treated.

Godwin took in a sharp breath, and launched himself at the men asleep. They did not wake, or cry out. There was no time, or breath remaining.

Appetites sated, the stranger took a knife, and sliced through the ropes at the children. Their slumber protected their innocence, and they slept on.

With ease, and silence, they leapt away. Godwin wondered at his body, marvelling at its strength. The ease with which the men were silenced, and...drained.

Coming to rest at a small brook, he washed the remnants of the men from his face. "We are not angels of mercy," he said quietly to the man.

"No," came the quiet reply. "We are not. We avenge those who are wronged."

Godwin swallowed, too keenly aware of the unease he felt. It was growing stronger.

"And your name?" He asked.

"Michael," came the quiet reply.

Godwin turned to look at him, really look at him. His eyes were a deep, bloody red, his face a palor incomparable to his own chalkiness, but still a paleness that was stunning. Blonde curls topped his oblong face, and elegant fingers rested at his side. So similar to himself, but with the blessing of colours the Lord had seen fit to strip him of.

Devil child, his mind repeated. Devil's spawn. He'd heart it often enough to become his own internal, resounding echo. He didn't make the sign to ward off evil anymore, after his mother laughed at him for it, but he longed to, to banish his very nature.

The discomfort in his new flesh was becoming more focused, and pronounced. With a lurch, he turned away from Michael, and vomited the contents of his last meal into marsh grass.

Cleaning himself again, he wondered that he didn't shake with the force of it.

Turning back to Michael, he asked, "is it always so? That we repudiate evil in this way? That we suffer to serve the Lord?"

But Michael had backed away, horror and revulsion curling his lip and wrinkling his perfect nose.

"No," he said, "it is not."

It was then, that Bella woke with a strangled gasp from a vivid, and horrifying dream.

Godwin started himself, at her sudden shift, his thoughts so violently returned to himself.

And Bella began to understand Godwin's place in the picture of things.

* * *

Author's notes: hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear your thoughts and criticisms!


	4. A Wide River of Speech

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"So, did your cousin make it home?" Bella ventured, running a brush through her hair while one hand held the phone.

"No," said Jacob, shortly. "And I can't seem to make my dad worry about it—at all."

"I couldn't get my dad to worry about it last night, but...maybe he will now. I'll go see him, and come down after, K'?"

"Sure, we'll be at Emily's."

"We?"

"Pack. Meeting today."

"Oh. I'll wait 'til you're done."

"No—come. You're totally welcome." Jacob's voice had taken too much energy, and Bella grimaced. Was he getting the wrong idea? No, she told herself, he already had the wrong idea. She needed to be clear about what they were.

She sighed. "OK, I'll come after seeing Charlie. 'Bout an hour?"

"Yup—sounds good. See you then."

"Bye," she said, hoping to sound nonchalant.

"Bye!" Jacob's voice carried more energy than she muster on her best day. She smiled, thinking of the sunshine he managed to carry around with him.

The drive to station was pleasant, marked by the rare sunshine of a winter day. The green was vivid, framed by the unusually vibrant blue of the ocean. The scent of pine needles, their resin warmed in the sun, made a heady musk. The night would be cold—colder than they'd had in a few weeks, but worth the price of a day in the sun's radiance. She paused, outside the station, to breath in the forest's perfume.

"Bella? You lock yourself out or something?" Came Charlie's voice, as he stepped out of his cruiser, a sheaf of paperwork in his hands.

"Very funny, Dad," said Bella.

"What brings you my way?"

"Dwayne still hasn't shown up," she offered, shrugging her shoulders, but furrowing her brow.

"Is Billy worried?"

"Not at all," she admitted, wishing she could say differently.

"Well, it's been...not quite a day?"

She nodded.

"If Billy or Jacob want, I can launch a search at forty-eight hours, but not until then." He eyed Bella. Her worry was unusual. Something else was up.

"Is there something else about this that has you worried?"

Bella wavered momentarily, wondering if she should tell him. So many secrets already, she thought.

"Well," she began, "when we were walking at Black's road—that's where Billy said Dwayne went—we found a pool of blood."

Billy looked up sharply. "Blood?"

"Yeah, I mean, Jacob thought it was probably from an animal, but..well, it was creepy. You can't be sure until you test, right?" She focused on keeping her features level and even, and hoped Jacob would forgive her this lie.

Charlie blew his breath out of his mouth, "I wish you'd told me this yesterday." Running his hand over his head, he sighed, "OK, I'll send someone out to take a look, but I don't know if we can get anything after it's been there for so long." He turned to walk into the depot, but turned back abruptly, "no going into the woods today. Understand? Not even with Jacob."

Bella nodded, eyes down. She'd better get going so she could catch Jacob up.

Her truck rumbled its protest as she pushed it to sixty for the long, straight stretch into La Push. Finally slowing, she took the turn-off to Emily's, hoping she'd catch them before they headed off.

She was in luck. The pack meeting was just breaking up, and Jake broke into a light jog to meet her, his face a wide grin.

"Hey Pale Face," he said.

"You might have good reason to call me that," she said sheepishly "I told my dad about the pool of blood."

"Oh," said Jacob. "How'd that go?" He envisioned a purple-faced Charlie, sputtering angry words at him, forbidding him from seeing Bella. His breakfast curdled in his stomach.

"Fine, he's sending someone to look, but...well, I told him you said it was animal blood," she looked down, embarrassed by this lie.

"So?" He asked.

"I don't like to lie, and I don't like implicate other people in it when I do," she said quietly, embarrassed to be made to say as much.

"You make it sound like you're a pathological liar, Bella," Jacob laughed.

Bella's deep blush reminded him that much of her life had been shrouded in secrecy, and no doubt, lies.

His visceral reaction to all things vampire-related became just a titch bit stronger. Particularly in relation to one specific vampire.

"You're a good person, Bella," he said quietly, "and you've protected the pack's secret, which I think falls under 'noble causes.' I think you can let yourself off the moral hook."

She smiled a bit at that. "Come on in for a bit, while I talk to Sam. Emily made a really good breakfast. Like, Martha Stewart grade amazing."

He was careful not to touch her, but gently gestured with his arms. Herding, he mused. He grinned wryly at the thought, wishing he could simply take her hand.

The house smelled of french toast, some kind of tangy sauce, and cinnamon. Sparse remains of a larger meal were scattered around the kitchen—large bowls with small amounts of whipped cream, thick back bacon, and what smelled like blackberry preserves teased a growl out of Bella's stomach.

"Let me get you something," called Emily, clearing things away.

"Oh, no, I'm fine—let me help you," Bella said, not wanting to add to the work load. She let her lips curl at the thoughtlessness of the boys—the "pack" she grunted mentally. They certainly acted like it sometimes.

"It's OK, Bella, sit down. You help them, and they protect us. I can at least get you something to eat. Your stomach growls almost as loudly as Sam's," she said, smiling behind a curtain of dark hair.

"I'm not sure how I help," Bella said, honestly perplexed.

"Oh, you help. Trust me. You keep Jacob in good spirits, and that's a lot to do." She slid a full plate in front of Bella, turning back to pour a glass of orange juice as well. Setting it beside the plate, she sat down in the seat opposite, reaching for her coffee.

Bella took a bite, and paused. "Wow, this is amazing," she said, "what do you put in this?"

"And this is almost warm," Emily said, making a face as she set the cup down, "yeuch."

Refreshing her cup, she sat down again, this time slowly stirring in the fresh cream she brought with her. Bella watched it cloud into the cup, the whorls and eddies settling into a caramel coloured homogeneity.

"It's the freshly grated cinnamon in the butter. You sprinkle it into the pan right before you add the bread."

"Wow. Those boys don't know how good they've got it."

"Perhaps not, but I know how good I have it. It's the least I can do." She smiled, lost in a happy thought, the drift of her lips climbing upwards. The smile reached her elegant cheekbones.

"OK Bella! Ready?" came Jacob's voice, followed by his energetic form.

"Sure, yeah," Bella said, hurriedly swallowing the last chunk of toast. "Thank you Emily—that was amazing," and before she could protest, washed her dish and cup, and set them to dry in the dishrack.

Jacob tapped his foot impatiently while he waited.

"Why don't we walk up Black's road? See if we can find Dwayne?" asked Bella.

Jacob nodded, but waited until they were in Bella's truck before he added, "but not into the woods. I don't want to take any risks."

"That's fine," Bella said, surprised at the unexpected disappointment she felt, "Dad asked me to stay out of them, even with you around." She grinned. "He thinks you carry bear spray."

They both laughed at the absurdity of this.

"Maybe we should, you know, just in case. I mean, what's a gigantic, supernatural wolf going to do if he runs into a bear?" Jacob snickered.

They were both bent over, tears streaming down their faces.

When they fully recovered, small giggles still erupting every few minutes over the slightest provocation, they pulled away from Emily's, and drove to Jacob's, leaving the truck so they could trace Dwayne's steps.

After about thirty minutes, they'd made it to Clive's, the local convenience come dry goods, pawn shop, and local hangout for La Push. John Lahote, the proprietor was bent over the backside of an ancient ice machine, long defunct at the side of the store.

"You folks need anything, let me know," he called as they stopped out front.

"Thanks, actually, I was wondering if you'd seen my dad's cousin Dwayne yesterday. He would have walked up this way in the afternoon."

"Dwayne's in town eh? Haven't seen him in what, twenty years?" He smiled, and shook his head, either enjoying, or regretting the past. "Surprised he didn't come in to say 'hi,' but maybe he woulda expected my dad here."

"So you didn't see him then?"

"Naw, would like to though. He head home already or something? Or get lost?" He grinned widely at this last suggestion.

"Well, he didn't come back last night. I'm a little worried. My dad isn't though."

"Ha! No, if you knew him well, you wouldn't be. He'll turn up. Don't worry." He turned back to fixing the ice machine.

"That seems to be the consensus," Jacob muttered. "Thanks John," he said, looking at Bella, and jerking his head in the direction of the road, now heading due north to the rise of the forest. "Come on, let's see if we can find anything," he said.

She nodded, and they set off, eyes sweeping carefully over the terrain for anything unusual.

"Do you know what he was wearing yesterday?" She asked.

"No, why?"

"Well, it would be helpful when we get to the higher terrain to keep an eye out for any scraps of fabric. Or distinct shoe patterns. I looked around your place, but couldn't see any footprints to match."

"No, the ground's still too hard for that right now," Jacob said.

"Not if he's a big guy," Bella replied, pointing to the light imprint Jacob's foot had left.

"But he's not," said Jacob, eyeing his sizeable footprint, "he's just a bit bigger than you. Small for a guy."

"Easy prey for an animal," said Bella, "or something else. You sure you haven't found traces of...anything?" She couldn't bring herself to name the creatures.

"No, and we looked." His lips pressed into a firm line. The empty search had been frustrating for them all. That extra white freak was helpfully extra freaky and unsmellable. Fricking Vampires.

"He...said he didn't hurt humans." Her voice was small, offered as if something might crack, if she said the words too loudly.

Jacob made a derisive noise in his throat.

Bella swallowed up the rest of her words.

They walked on in a silence that stretched as wide as a river of empty words.

Jacob turned to face her, stopping their steady walk. "Do you really believe that?" His face was openly curious.

"I do. He seemed...honest."

Jacob worked hard to still the emotions that wanted to do gymnastics over his face. He nodded, acknowledging her words. His inner thoughts were far less charitable.

"He seemed...different." She let the words hang there, and turned to continue their walk. Jacob's hand stopped her.

"You can't trust them, Bella. Any of them. I'd think you would know that better than any of us." He sucked in his breath at the end of his own words, waiting for her to scuttle back into her shell.

But she didn't.

She exploded.

"Don't you judge me Jacob Black!" and then stormed off up the hill. Directly into the woods.

"Bella!" He called, not wanting to chase her further, "Can you stay out of the woods—please?"

She ignored him, and lengthened her stride.

"Come on Bella! Your dad will kill me! And then you. Please—stay out of the woods!" He balled his fists, and then pulled at his hair, wondering if he should run after her, go with her, or just pick her up and carry her back to his place. The last, and least wise of those options became a longer thought than it should have been, and ended in ways that he knew he shouldn't entertain.

He settled for taking a deep breath, and waited for her to blow off steam. Looking around, he took stock of silence, and solitude they had found themselves in. He stepped behind a thicket of winter-withered blackberry canes, and let his other self become apparent, waiting on what he hoped would be nothing.

Bella's steam carried her up past where the pool of blood was, eyes useless for clues, and into the dark of the woods. The soothing scents of wind-bruised cedar, and a thick blanket of pine needles slowed her breathing, and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears settle to a dull whirr.

The cold damp reached far deeper in the shady pools of the forest canopy. She zipped her jacket up further, and settled her hands into her pockets. Leaning her upper back against a tree, she let the wash of memory have its way with her.

So rarely did she allow this, but at the moment, it was just too much to bury. She felt again those cold hands on her cheeks, and the answering flush of her body to his lips. The sigh of memory became a real one, and she opened her eyes to the mid-day darkness of the woods.

She waited, and was not disappointed when the aching emptiness reasserted itself, and she slid to the base of the tree, resting her back against the reassuring roughness of the bark. She pressed her back into it, willing the sensation to overcome the nothingness that threatened to swallow her up.

Maybe it would better, she thought.

No, she said herself, no. I can't do that to Charlie. Or mom.

Or Jacob. She frowned at what he'd said, but...the truth hurts sometimes.

Moving herself through the deep breathing that stilled the worst of the inner torment, she tightened her arms around herself, a visceral reaction to the emptiness. Breathe, she coached her body, in, and out.

She'd lost track of the time, but when the worst had passed, Bella realised the dull shadows cast by the thin cloud layer that had swept in over the day, had shifted.

Crap.

It was late, and she'd broken her promise. I should really go back, she thought. And apologise to Jacob. Standing, she caught her finger on a rough edge of the tree, and a small cut welled up, the blood trickling eagerly down to her wrist.

A low growl interrupted her thoughts.

The whirring of a black shape flitted past her, and the sickening wet snap of bone sent her own into a jellied numbness.

Something had just killed...something.

The disordered thump of a lifeless body, let fall, reached her ears.

In her fear, Bella's mind came to its own conclusions: I guess I do want to live. She could feel her hands shaking, as she tried to steady herself, getting ready to run, knowing she couldn't move fast enough.

"Are you hurt?" came the voice.

Godwin.

"No." Her voice shook in time with her hands.

"You've cut yourself."

He came slowly into view, a tentative ten feet from her.

"Did you just—?" She couldn't finish the question.

"Oh," he said, "the cougar. Sorry, it was coming for you—I didn't have time to warn you." He shrugged, and looked away in the direction where he'd left the carcass.

Bella's heart rate was slowing. She swallowed, and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

It was right about then that Jacob arrived, angry and wolf-shaped.

"I'm fine Jacob! He saved me—apparently, from a cougar." She was still gripping the tree behind her with both hands. "It's OK," she said, a bit quieter.

"Thank you," she added, looking at Godwin, "for stopping it." She avoided looking where she knew she'd see its body.

Jacob whined, nosing her hand. "I'm fine," she said again. "It's just a scratch." He growled this time, and lifted his head in Godwin's direction.

"I do not harm humans. And I will not tell you again."

This time, his vanishing seemed even faster, and more impossible than before. The dark earth was unmarked where he stood.

"Did I just really see him?" asked Bella, peering over where he'd been.

Jacob blew out a breath, and panted, nodding.

"Sorry, Jake," Bella muttered, "and thank you, for coming," she mumbled.

He grunted in response, and nudged her hand towards the light of the road. Taking the hint, she followed him into the light of day.

He lingered behind the trees, and emerged, himself again, a solemn-faced boy.

"I think I'm done for the day, Bella. Head back?" He raised his eyebrows, but his lips remained a grim line.

"Sure," she said quietly, and they began what Bella suspected would be a long, and uncomfortable walk home.

They were spared their awkwardness by the arrival of two police cruisers.

Charlie stepped out onto the road, another deputy with him. "Go on ahead Doug, I'll catch up in a bit," he said, pointing up towards where Bella and Jacob had been. "I'm going to pretend you all had the common sense not to completely ignore my request to stay. Out. of. The woods." He looked darkly at Bella, and then Jacob. "Hop in Bella, I'll give you a ride back."

"It's OK, Dad, I need to get my truck—"

"Get in, Bella," he said, not turning to look at her, but keeping his eyes on Jacob.

"Dad—"

"GET IN!"

Stunned by sharp words, and already shaky, Bella slid herself into the front of the cruiser, arms securely wrapped around herself.

Charlie turned his back to her, facing Jacob. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could see Jacob's face. It had morphed from anger, to guilt, to shame.

"Suit yourself," Charlie muttered, climbing back in. Making a few quick calls, he watched Jacob walk away in the direction of home.

"Um, aren't we offering Jacob a ride?" Bella ventured, quietly, tentatively.

"Said he didn't want one," Charlie said gruffly, shifting the car abruptly into gear. The gravel on the road shifted and sprayed as he spend back into town.

The ride to Billy's was mercifully short, and fraught with Charlie's anger and anxiety.

Pulling up in front of the house, he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. "You're grounded. Go home. We'll talk later."

Taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slowly, Bella nodded once, and gritted out a "fine." Slamming the door behind her, she stormed over to her truck, and started it more aggressively than it deserved. The gears protested as she shifted into drive, and took the slowest possible speed home she could.

Once her anger had subsided, she grumpily, and then remorsefully acknowledged to herself that Charlie had a right to be mad. He'd been the one to find bodies—bodies that he couldn't possibly know were the result of vampires, and not animals.

The thought of them reminded her—with some discomfort—of Godwin. Brushing the hair from her face, her heart raced, as her mind came to conclusions beyond what it could make sense of.

Not wanting to be another discovered body, she pulled over, sitting perfectly still in her seat.

He hadn't reacted to her blood. At all.

The memory of his tawny eyes, and pale skin were foremost in her mind. Maybe he—well, maybe he was different?

Perhaps he could help?

She snorted at this, initially, but didn't dismiss it out of hand.

Maybe he could.

Intent on the possibility, she checked carefully before pulling back onto the road, purposeful in her driving. No longer irritated at being sent home, she resurrected her computer from its deep slumber, and waited for the scratching wail of the dial-up connection.

Her search, as before, when she met—she didn't think of the name. Before, she told herself, this didn't help much. And now, she wondered, clicking on links, waiting the length of ten breaths for them to load...this isn't helping much either.

She switched it off, and walled off the part of her mind that wanted to dig further. Resigned to purposeful tasks, she picked up The Inferno, and waded into the second circle of Hell.

Somewhere between there, and the fifth circle, Bella found herself cozied up in bed against the chill of the thin windows. Between the fifth and the sixth, the weariness of the day caught up with her, and she had descended into her own personal hell: one with dreams.

Godwin had come to rest on what he now regarded as his own personal real estate, a branch high in the arms of an ancient fir, its limbs sturdy and spry. His practised immobility was tested, as the wind lodged in the nooks and crannies of its twigs, letting his weight rock to the motion of the tree.

Feelings, ones that not lived since his turning, were making themselves known. She was asleep. So early, he wondered, human behaviour a complexity he could no longer comprehend. Did one sleep during the day? Perhaps this had changed, since he knew the rhythms of slumber.

Sleep he could not, but dreams, he could offer. And so he remembered.

And so Bella knew.

He had waited, patiently, in the shade of an ancient yew, well beyond the pasture wall of the village grazing lands. The tree guarded the entrance to the small, but dense wood that marked the boundary of his family's world. Jakob would meet him here. He remembered his excitement, the tenseness of his hands, and the heat in his pale cheeks, so unused to the sun.

The icy grip of cold hands had been a shock, but nothing compared to the bite, the stinging that grew, and became a burning—a moment in the sun too long—and then morphed into the fire that had calded him as a young child. As it grew, the terror of its totality rocked his body. In all the heat, he heard the shimmering words, "Quiet. They will hear. I will protect you."

He remembered the blur of images, the darkness of the wet cave, and the words and water that did nothing to stop the fire spreading through him.

When the burning of his body ended, the one in his soul began.

"What have you done?" He asked the man who had bit him. "What are you? And what am I?"

"You are an angel, now," he'd said, his grin devilish, "like me."

But Godwin had known the truth. Watching his own movements, and the speed of it, and burning hunger that raked his throat, he knew better. "This is the devil's work!"

"Peace, child, it is not. Follow me," and taking his hand, its mutual warmth shocked Godwin. Horrified, and yet, curious too, he followed. The wonder of their speed was breathtaking, and the world of night seemed more alive than any day he'd ever faced. Stopping in the moonlit shadows by a small clearing, the stranger motioned him to wait, and smell, and listen. He did, and the nature of their prey became clear. He could hear the sound of the blood throbbing in their veins, and the smell of it searing his throat. A pale finger crooked at him, and a whispered, "they are bandits—thieves, and worse." Looking with his keener senses, he could see, clearly, the young children tied to the trees, the puffiness of their eyes marks where tears had run. The swelling of their small bodies testament to the brutality with which they'd been taken, and treated.

Godwin took in a sharp breath, and launched himself at the men asleep. They did not wake, or cry out. There was no time, or breath remaining.

Appetites sated, the stranger took a knife, and sliced through the ropes at the children. Their slumber protected their innocence, and they slept on.

With ease, and silence, they leapt away. Godwin wondered at his body, marvelling at its strength. The ease with which the men were silenced, and...drained.

Coming to rest at a small brook, he washed the remnants of the men from his face. "We are not angels of mercy," he said quietly to the man.

"No," came the quiet reply. "We are not. We avenge those who are wronged."

Godwin swallowed, too keenly aware of the unease he felt. It was growing stronger.

"And your name?" He asked.

"Michael," came the quiet reply.

Godwin turned to look at him, really look at him. His eyes were a deep, bloody red, his face a palor incomparable to his own chalkiness, but still a paleness that was stunning. Blonde curls topped his oblong face, and elegant fingers rested at his side. So similar to himself, but with the blessing of colours the Lord had seen fit to strip him of.

Devil child, his mind repeated. Devil's spawn. He'd heart it often enough to become his own internal, resounding echo. He didn't make the sign to ward off evil anymore, after his mother laughed at him for it, but he longed to, to banish his very nature.

The discomfort in his new flesh was becoming more focused, and pronounced. With a lurch, he turned away from Michael, and vomited the contents of his last meal into marsh grass.

Cleaning himself again, he wondered that he didn't shake with the force of it.

Turning back to Michael, he asked, "is it always so? That we repudiate evil in this way? That we suffer to serve the Lord?"

But Michael had backed away, horror and revulsion curling his lip and wrinkling his perfect nose.

"No," he said, "it is not."

It was then, that Bella woke with a strangled gasp from a vivid, and horrifying dream.

Godwin started himself, at her sudden shift, his thoughts so violently returned to himself.

And Bella began to understand Godwin's place in the picture of things.

* * *

Author's notes: hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear your thoughts and criticisms.


	5. And I, who had my head with horror bound

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?" asked Jacob.

"Seriously?" Bella retorted. "You, the mythical werewolf asking me if 'it was just a dream'?"

"OK, sure, fine," he said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "I mean, I have dreams I'd like to be true all the time, but that doesn't mean they are—ow!"

Bella's sharp jab at his ribcage with an elbow, and a scrunched set of lips told him that perhaps he should just shut up for a while.

"It was real, Jacob. There is NO way I could have a dream like that—no way. It was so vivid, detailed...creepy. I know what my dreams are like. They're _not_ like that."

"Fair enough," he said, "so what do you want to do about it?" He rubbed his left side absent-mindedly.

"I want to find out why he's hanging around."

Jacob sat up suddenly.

"Crap," he said. "Your dad's almost home."

"How can you tell?"

"I can hear his cruiser."

Bella sighed. "Sometimes, being a plain old mortal just sucks."

Jacob felt a shiver go up his spine, and said, in all seriousness, "You're awesome, just the way you are. Don't change."

Bella could hear the rumble of Charlie's car now too, "you'd better go. I can't guarantee your safety if he finds you here."

"Didn't expect you to," he grinned, and slipped himself out of her window, ducking into the woods, waving at her as he danced himself backwards into the darkness.

"Show off!" she half-yelled, jealous of his coordination. She could make a flat floor as dangerous as summiting Everest.

Mustering her courage, she went downstairs to face Charlie, who was slowly hanging up his badge and gun, no doubt prolonging the moment before he had to confront her too.

"Hi Dad," she ventured.

"Hi Bells," he said quietly, walking to, and collapsing into the couch. He was rubbing his temples in a circular motion with his fingers.

"Any sign of Dwayne?"

"No," he sighed, "none." He paused for a moment, a grimace on his face. "Thank you for telling me," he said, clearly having difficulty with his words, "and I'm sorry for yelling at you and Jacob. I just…"

"Don't want to find me as a dead body or a pool of blood by the side of the road? Yeah, Dad, got it. Check," Bella dismissed him. "Does this mean I'm not grounded, because, you know, that would be…" not devastating she thought, allow me to breath and not feel like I'm going to die again, "good, I guess," she said, feeling the lameness of her response.

Her face must have said more, because Charlie looked alarmed, "no, it's fine...I overreacted, I guess. You know. Parents." He tried to look nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders, and turned back to the TV, flicking it on with the remote.

Relieved by the return of normalcy, Bella settled into dinner, and Charlie into a beer.

"You must really be feeling guilty," he said, joining her at the table, a small grin on his face, "you hate salmon."

"I am an open book. Read away," said Bella, grinning with him. "Sorry to scare you, Dad. I know you...care."

Their grins became awkward smiles, and throats that were tight with emotion. They took small bites.

"Just, please, be careful," he said. "I can't...I can't stand the thought of you...going away, again."

The world lurched, and her dinner became even more unappealing. She reminded herself that he meant it well.

"Yeah Dad," she whispered.

Dinner was quiet after that, and Bella was grateful to escape into the academic hell of _The Inferno_ for the evening. She consoled herself with the knowledge that reading it gave her a greater span of epithets with which to curse her English teacher.

A triad of dictionary, notebook, and text before her, Bella mumbled over the worksheet questions the teacher had set: "'Describe the punishments suffered by the inhabitants of each circle of Hell.'" Scanning back over the various sections, the third canto caught her eye, where a set of vicious hornets were referenced:

 _These did their faces irrigate with blood,  
_ _Which, with their tears commingled, at their feet  
_ _By the disgusting worms was gathered up._

"Ewww," she muttered to herself, making note of it, hoping that Mr. Berty assign any particularly gruesomely focused papers for this reading set.

The reading was redirecting her mind though, and the vivid dream of the afternoon bubbled up into her conscience.

She shivered, remembering the pain of the transformation she'd been shown only in her mind. She recalled, still, too well, the beginnings of it in her own hand. Running a finger over the semi-circular scar, Godwin's resistance—and then, she realized, no, not resistance, to her blood. His _aversion_.

It wasn't a _choice_. He couldn't stomach human blood.

She could only imagine what kind of an outcast that would make him amongst vampires. A creature with no home of his own.

Flipping on the power switch for the computer, she looked up albinism. _Finally, a search with some results_ , she thought. Medical conditions, predispositions, history and treatment of….

"Whoa," she said, reading through the results. The section that listed persecution, torture, and use in medical experiments was long. "No wonder he keeps to himself."

She stopped the reading there, turning off the monitor, and settling herself back in bed with her books, thinking.

 _He said he had smelled her, and been intrigued. He'd….somehow shared a memory with her. What else could he do? Was he like_...and she stopped the name before it raised the spectre of her past.

She'd let these questions come and go earlier in the day, but hadn't had the time to sit with them yet.

 _What had brought him here? Surely not her smell_. _Had_ , and here she forced herself to think it, _the Cullens sent him? Or was he in search of them? Perhaps he'd heard of them? Sent by the clan in Denali? No, they would know where they were._

She returned again to the thought of Godwin's dream.

How close did he have to be to share it?

Head turned, she looked out the window, and swallowed.

With a sharp shake of her head, she flipped open to a fresh page in her notebook, and began scribbling down all she knew about Godwin. The list was short. On the other side of the page, she scribbled Dwayne's name. The list there was short too. She needed to go back to Jacob's, see if they could find more there. Maybe Billy could tell them, and they could start investigating.

Investigating.

She grimaced, wondering what Charlie would make of this. The TV was still on. It couldn't hurt to ask if there was something they could do. He might say no, but at least she could earn some trust for respecting that boundary if he set it.

"Dad," she called halfway down the stairs, "you still up?"

The startled snuffle told her he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV, "Yeah, up. What?"

"I was just wondering, is there anything Jacob and I can do...to try to find Dwayne? Ask questions, look around? Look in his bag?"

Rubbing his hands over his face, while she took an uncertain seat beside him, he eyed her. _Maybe it would keep her out of the woods. Dwayne had probably taken off on a bender somewhere. No harm in letting her and Jacob ask questions._

"Sure, that could help. Just...stay outta the woods. Too many animal attacks," he mumbled, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. He wondered what else he could offer by way of distraction, "I'll get you one of our volunteer search manuals, for when we have large groups helping look for people, give you an eye for something that might be helpful." He mentally included evidence bags, and some gloves. Nothing they collected would be useable of course, but it might preoccupy her and Jacob. He felt a guilty twinge, letting her loose on what was sure to be a fruitless task. But if it kept her safe, and busy with Jacob, it couldn't be _that_ bad. Trust Dwayne to go off half-cocked. No one else was worried, but he'd rather have Bella fuss over this than sink back into the catatonic nothingness he'd watched her sleep-walk through.

Relieved at his willingness, she almost skipped up the stairs. _Excellent. They didn't have to hide what they were doing. About this, anyway._

She'd see Jacob after school tomorrow.

In the meantime, she returned with a resigned sigh to Dante, and her other homework, leaving the last of the reading to just before bed. It seemed, so far, to be an excellent soporific.

* * *

"Jake?" Bella called, opening the door, and poking her head in.

"He's in the shed!" called Billy, from the back.

"Thanks Billy!" Ducking back out, she sprinted through the rain to the shed. She shrugged off as much of the water as she could under the short overhang.

"Jake?" she called again, poking her head into the dark interior.

"Yeah!" he replied, not getting up from under the chassis of the bike, "pass me the three quarter inch socket wrench, hey?"

"Um," said Bella, looking at the row of tools laid out.

"Third one in from the right. Loose handle."

"Ah," she said, passing it to him.

"Fanks," he muttered, something metal between his teeth.

After a series of noisy squeaks, Jacob was done whatever it was he was doing, and got himself up from under the bike. Bella had settled back in with _The Inferno_ , pencil and paper in hand.

"Jake, do you ever do homework?" she asked, watching him find something else to fiddle with on his bike.

"Yeah, sure, why?" he asked, barely registering her raised eyebrows.

"It's three thirty. I just got here, and you've clearly been at this since you got home."

"Uh-huh," he muttered, squatting down, squinting at something under the seat.

"You know, books. Lit-er-a-t-ure. Pencils. Writing...Math," she added, wrinkling her nose at the thought of her own homework.

Turning to face her, his own eyebrows up, he said with a wry grin, "yes, tell me more of these mysterious things, oh great Pale Face."

She rolled her eyes at him. _Oh, Jacob._

"Uh-huh," she said, turning back to her notebook. The good humour was wearing a bit thin though. What if Billy thought she was a bad influence on him? What were Jake's grades were slipping? That wouldn't do.

Jacob watched as her face fell, the smile melting into a line of worry, matched by heavy eyebrows. She was really worried. "I'm fine, Bells, really. Grades are great. You?" he said, lifting his chin in the direction of her book. "That looks thick, and boring."

Her face perked up a bit, and she gave a grim smile, "Well, I wasn't expecting AP Lit to be easy, or Dante's Inferno to be light reading, but it's been OK."

"Why are you taking AP lit?" he asked, eyebrows crossed in total disapproval. "Jesus—you're a total sucker for self-torture."

And then he realised he knew exactly why she'd taken it. _Crap._ The fallen face had struck again. Trying to find something to move the conversation on, he set a hand on his bike. "Uh, wanna ride?" he asked, waving vaguely at her bike in the corner.

"No," Bella said slowly, "actually, I thought we might look through Dwayne's stuff, that he left. I mean, if that's OK with your dad," she added, keenly aware of her outsider status. Jacob made her feel at home, but the 'pale-face' comments scooched her right back over the rez line each time.

"That sounds like a smart idea," he said. "Good thinking," he added, putting the tools away. He grabbed her bag for her, before she could protest. Her blush told him she was embarrassed by the gesture, but he liked doing small things for her. Nothing overt. Just enough to let her know he cared.

Jacob's sister's room was sparse. Most of her things were gone to school with her, and Dwayne's bag looked lonely in the corner. Setting it on the bed, they sat on either side of it. From her bag, Bella produced gloves for each of them.

"Really?" asked Jacob, "Uh, doesn't this seem...a bit much?" He felt like he was playing dress up all over again with his sister. Except...maybe dress up might be fun with Bella.

He stopped the wandering thought right there.

"Charlie said it would keep us from adding anything to the mix that didn't belong," she said apologetically.

"'K," mumbled Jacob, snapping them on, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Oh my God Jake, can't you take anything seriously?" she said, cheerfully exasperated.

"Now bend over, and cough!" he said, snapping the lip of the glove.

Bella just rolled her eyes and shook her head, giving something between a grimace and a grin, and began searching through Dwayne's bag.

"No butt jokes, eh?" he said, joining her.

"Kind of lowers the age a bit Jake, just a bit."

As they searched, Jake thought that there were a lot of things in the bag. More than enough for a few days, like he'd planned to be here for.

"Has anyone else in his family noticed he's been gone? Or said anything?" asked Bella, pausing in her search.

"No," Jacob said, suddenly serious. "Betty—his wife—didn't think too much of it. Seems like he's got a bit of a history of going off on 'trips'," he said, miming a swig from a bottle.

"Oh," Bella said, wondering if that was what Charlie was referring to. "I mean, it's been three days now? You'd think people would start to get worried."

"Bella, it's not unusual for people to disappear for weeks at at time. Have you met Paul's cousins?"

She searched her memory. "Oh yeah, that time at the beach?"

"Uh-huh," he said, nodding at her, still swigging from the imaginary bottle.

"Right." She sighed. "It just...it doesn't feel right Jake. I'm worried, and...well, I'd rather pursue that than pretend everything fine. Better to look a fool than be one after the fact."

"That a quote from a book smarty-pants?" he asked, setting aside of a pair of cousin Dwayne's well worn boxers with a wrinkled nose.

"No," said Bella, giggling, "Just me. Maybe if you cracked a book, you might know that wolfy." She ducked a swipe with Dwayne's boxers.

"Nice," he said, "nice, make fun of the rez kid."

"Rez kid my butt."

"Thought you weren't into butt jokes."

The conversation devolved from there.

After a thorough search, Bella had come to the same conclusions as Jake. Dwayne needed some new underwear, and he had brought the better part of his wardrobe with him.

"There's no booze," said Jake.

"So?" Bella asked. "Would there be?"

"Oh yeah, from what my dad tells me, he would have come with something."

"Maybe he took it? Or bought some on the way up the road? Stopped in somewhere? Maybe he went sober?"

Jacob snorted at the last suggestion, "hardly likely."

Calling it a night, they packed his stuff up again, and Bella headed home to make a late dinner with Charlie.

She was surprised to find him at the microwave, a plate of leftovers already heated.

"Look," he said grinning, "I made dinner!"

Bella smiled, "Good job dad, nice work. Any for me?"

"Why yes, there is," as he pulled a second plate from the fridge.

Bella's eyebrows were at her hairline. "Uh, wow. Any special occasion?"

"No, just thought you could use a break from cooking. Billy called when you left," he added, seeing her quizzical look.

They settled into their routine conversation of the day, but Bella's mind frequently detoured to the luggage she and Jake had searched.

"Dad, does it strike you as strange that Dwayne would bring a lot of clothes with him, and no booze?"

"The second, yeah, it would," he said, chewing thoughtfully on the salmon almondine. Pausing, he added mysteriously, "huh," and sat back from the table, hands bracing him, clearly lost in thought.

Bella waited, not wanting to interfere with his thoughts. She watched the play of feeling cross his face.

"I wonder," he muttered.

"Fill me in Dad, before I go grey here?" she prodded gently.

"Well, it's just something he said to me, years ago," he shook his head. "I'm sure it's nothing, but, he used to talk about his dad, and his drinking...he hated it, eh? Said he would be different." Charlie's grin was small, and dipped into a frown. "Talked about how he wished his dad would walk the moon."

"As in, Michael Jackson?" Bella's eyes furrowed.

"No," he said chuckling, "it means to change one's ways, repent. For him, have his dad stop drinking. Make things right."

"Oh, well, that makes sense, I guess."

"Maybe his dad didn't. Maybe he hoped to. Maybe that's what the stay down here was about."

"Maybe."

* * *

In bed, Bella rested _The Inferno_ on her knees. It was interesting to read, in parts, but the moralizing was becoming dull. Some of the descriptions were so gruesome, they were beginning to blend together in a haze of unpleasant confusion. Shaking her head, she hopped out of bed for her notebook. The moon, she saw, was full—bright and low—unusual for the time of year. Pausing, she took a moment to admire the halo around it, either of frost, or atmospheric elements, she wasn't sure, but it was beautiful.

Jacob, too was in bed, not admiring the moon, but skimming over a copy of _The Inferno_ he'd found in his sister's room, stashed away from her first year at college. As he glossed over the cantos, skipping words that looked nonessential, he muttered aloud the occasional line, here and there, making sense of the strange order of words. "And I, who had my head with horror bound," he mumbled, "well, you're not kidding there," and tossed the book neatly to his bed side table.

Folding his hands behind his head, he reviewed the day, lingering in the moments with Bella, and their common purpose. He _was_ worried about Dwayne. It had been three days, but he kinda hoped the guy stayed lost just a bit longer, if it meant hanging out with Bella.

Bella.

His more latent feelings asserted themselves, and he shoved them right back down into the hidey hole they'd crawled out of.

 _No_ , he told himself firmly. _Stay with the long game. Be her friend. She doesn't want anything else right now. And if she ever does, you'll be there._

His body had other ideas though, and he remembered the stolen glances he'd taken a few short hours before. The soft curve of her cheek, and the matching arc of her hair laid against it. She always tucked her hair behind her ears, but never tied it back. He liked that. Smiling, he wondered what it would be like to tuck it back for her. To brush his fingers against her cheek. To come close, let his lips brush them. Or her lips.

Jacob got up and locked his door.

Bella got up and opened her window.

 _How close would he have to be? To share dreams?_ She wondered.

"Godwin, if you're there, you can come in," she whispered to the moon, and stepped back.

* * *

 **Author's notes: If you're enjoying, have questions, critiques, or thoughts in general on the story, or writing, I would love to hear!**


	6. The Chosen Vessel

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Mr. Berty had a habit of hitching his pants up, his protuberant belly working hard to shimmy them down again. You could mark the progress of the lesson by his pant hitches. At the first, you knew you were a good twenty minutes in. The second at forty, and the last, right before the bell.

They were just at the first hitch.

"Oh my God," muttered Mike Newton, two spots behind Bella.

"Save your prayers of intercession for the exam, please," he chided, with a wry grin. "So as you can see, the first circles of hell represent the sins of…" and Bella struggled to keep up with the pace of note-taking.

Further mumbled complaints rumbled low out of chests, as pencils scraped across pages.

"...a metaphor for the seven deadly sins…the notion of incarnate evil, more fully embellished…. until of course, the idea of angels and other intercessors being part of the fabric of reality..."

"Hey, Bella, Mike wants to know if he can crib your notes later?" hissed Jessica from behind, clearly not impressed by the request. She crooked her fingers around the word "crib," rolling her eyes at the same time.

"Uh, sure," said Bella, preoccupied with trying to make sense of what the teacher was saying. Watching Jessica begin to take in another exasperated breath, she stuck up her hand.

"Miss Swann?" paused Mr. Berty, clearly surprised by this sign of life.

"What did you mean about 'other intercessors being part of the fabric of reality?'"

"Oh," he said smiling, giving a dry cough that seemed to be his version of a laugh. Other heads were popping up from their notes. He was pausing, and, it seemed like, going off topic. Like a sea of gophers, the heads swivelled to the mutual locus of respect in the room. Bella swallowed nervously.

"Well, it's quite exciting, really. The most ridiculous notions proliferated. Some doctors of the church speculated that if demons roamed freely in the bodies of red-haired people, then angels and other creatures of power must reside in those that incredibly fair, or, in some cases, Albinos. And, in some places, the idea the intercessors between heaven, earth, and hell, were expanded to include the fantastic, like fairies, unicorns, werewolves and even, vampires! The Baltic texts are, of course, fairly unique and old in that regard, but are still unadulterated sources." He stopped suddenly, seeing the stunned expressions on the faces around him.

Bella's was the whitest of them all.

"Ah yes, but I digress. Back to Mr. Alighieri's _Divine Comedy_. As I was saying…"

And the room slumped back into itself, the mad scrambling for pen, pencil and paper alive again. Bella collected herself, and resumed her note taking, but her focus was loose, other information rattling through her brain.

* * *

"Your father is asleep," Godwin said quietly, breaking the silence of his arrival. Expecting him, Bella had turned her back, not able to stomach the apprehension of waiting, and watching. She startled only a little, something she congratulated herself on. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she turned to face the stranger she'd invited into her home.

"You're a vampire, but you can't drink human blood—or, rather, you can, but it makes you sick. You're an outcast because of this, and I suspect, feel an outcast because you cannot serve your angelic purpose, or, have your feelings on that changed?" She paused for another breath. "When were you born? And where? And why are you here? Did the Cullens send you?" She stopped suddenly, wondering if she'd get any answers, if it was worth speaking at all. If she was wrong, there were high stakes to be paid.

"I choose not to harm humans, and no, I cannot stomach their blood, even though I _can_ drink it." He waited before proceeding to the harder questions. "I understand I am not what my maker told me I was. 'A chosen vessel,'" he almost snorted. "Vampires are the devil's creatures. Demons, not angels." He shook his head for emphasis, and has he did, his hood slid back, revealing the shocking whiteness of his hair. "I was born close to the beginning of the 15th century, near Wales." He shifted, most unnecessarily, from one foot to the other. "Shall we sit?" he enquired politely, gesturing to the two chairs in the room.

"Sure," said Bella, feeling awkward for having been invited to sit in her own space.

Godwin sat in the rocking chair, and Bella instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, hunching slightly forward. Watching her, he hesitated before reaching the seat, "shall I sit somewhere else?" he ventured, an eyebrow arched.

"No, it's fine," Bella murmured.

"I am not so removed from the world to not recognize the signs of human distress. Who were the Cullens?"

 _Deep breathe in,_ Bella told herself, _and out._

She cleared her throat. "They were a coven of vampires who lived here until last fall." Her voice did not break, or waver. She gave herself a mental pat on the back.

"Did they give you that?" he asked, gesturing towards her wrist, his forearms resting on his knees.

 _God, that was just how_ … _end thought,_ she told herself.

"No, they saved me."

"Who—?"

"A vampire named James. He's gone now."

"Why?"

"Why did he bite me? Or try to turn me?"

Godwin turned his hands up and open, his face equally so.

"James was a tracker. He...wanted me, and he almost had me, but the Cullens...they saved me."

"And now they've left."

"Yes."

"Hmm." He said, considering this. "I think you'd be happier if I knew them, but I don't. They obviously didn't send me. I was here for the forest. I smelled you. I've never smelled anyone like, well, like me."

"Why didn't the werewolves think you smelled like me?" Bella asked.

"I don't know," he said, shrugging, "but you smell like me, to me." He gave a half-smile, an acknowledgement of his strangeness. "I am...unique, as far as I know, with my kind."

"What do you mean, you were here for the forest?"

"I like old things," he shrugged. "The forest here is very old. It's rare, I suppose, like me."

"Do the Volturi know about you?" Bella asked, freer with her words than she thought she would—or could, be.

"I imagine so. I haven't seen them in person, but they seem to know of any and all transgressions by our kind. I have not sought to cross them."

"You don't think you're a 'transgression,' do you?" She asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

"Not as such, no, but I don't care to test the theory. I don't mind a quick end, but I wouldn't relish what they might have in mind."

He felt a shiver find his spine.

 _Was it this child_? He wondered, _that made him feel things? Remember things?_

 _No, it was merely the human company._

It had been so long.

She was looking at him, still hunched forward ever so slightly, her arms tight around her middle. She breathed in deeply, and exhaled, like she was in pain.

 _Ah. The pieces were becoming clearer._

"The Cullens," he said, "one of them took you as a lover."

She grimaced at the name, and the word, but nodded. And then blushed.

Not the physical act then.. He tilted his head quizzically. The blush deepened.

"I'm making you uncomfortable," he said, standing as if to go.

"No!" She blurted out, hand extended before she could stop herself.

He stopped, mid-rise, and returned himself to the seat, this time leaning back, and rocking ever so slightly.

He could hear her heart rate slowing. _Excitable_ , he thought, _but...brave_.

 _Or foolish_.

"I'm surprised," he said, "you haven't asked the obvious question."

Bella snorted. "There's a Vampire sitting in my bedroom. I think I'm a bit beyond obvious questions."

Godwin arched his own brows. "I'm not accustomed to being regarded as an object of normality."

"You're not," she said, a little abashed at her comment. She could use his help. "You're not the first gifted one I've met. Or that doesn't drink human blood."

"The Cullens?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

She nodded.

"Can you," asked Bella, furrowing her brow, "would you know if that cougar, had hurt a human? Recently?"

"It hadn't recently. I can tell you that much. I don't think it's an animal you're looking for. There was no scent of that blood in the woods, that hadn't blown in."

Bella didn't ask if he was certain, but nodded, pulling out a notebook, writing rapidly.

He watched her tense movements. _Even her handwriting is jagged. Scarred, almost._

"Your friend has not been found?"

She paused only momentarily, wondering how much more of her life he knew.

"No," she said, still writing. Her hand stopped suddenly, and she looked directly at his eyes, flicking her gaze away quickly. "Would you be able to tell if it was his blood, if you smelt his clothes?"

"Perhaps," he said, eyebrows raised, "I've never done so before."

"I'll try to bring you some," she said, making another note in her book.

He was curious, "what do you think of _The Inferno_?"

"What?" she said, looking up again.

"The book, that you're reading," he nodded in its direction.

"Gruesome," she said, after a pause.

"Is that all?"

"Tortured," she whispered. Looking up at him, she whispered, "it reminds me of you."

* * *

"Now class, I'd like you to find a partner—no, Mr. Newton, not with your girlfriend," he said, watching him sidle up past Jessica, "Someone you can actually get some work done with."

"Hey Bella!" Mike chirped, sitting down beside her.

"Hey Mike," she replied, trying not to let her disappointment show. This would be a one-person operation.

"I'm assigning each of you a Canto. By the end of class, I want detailed notes on the kinds of imagery Alighieri uses in that section." A photocopy fluttered to the table in front of Mike, and he shoved it over to Bella with one hand, all the while focusing on twirling a pencil in his other.

"So Mike, why don't you take the first part, and I'll take—Mike?"

Mike was balancing his pencil the bridge of his nose.

"Have you even read any of this yet?" She asked, holding up the book.

"Oh, yeah, totally, read the summary online."

"Uh-huh," Bella said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Great."

Sliding the paper back over to her side, she began to make notes.

Mr. Berty hitched his pants for the second time that class.

She sighed, and let her eyes fall back on the faint text:

 _A she-wolf_

 _Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem'd_

 _Full of all wants, and many a land hath made_

 _Disconsolate ere now._

She paused, thinking about the she-wolf in the text, and the only she-wolf she knew. One who wanted something she couldn't have.

 _Perhaps_ , thought Bella, _Dwayne didn't meet a supernatural end. Or even a wild one. Perhaps it was just a human one._

But who would want to kill Dwayne?

* * *

Author's notes: As I hitched up my pants today in class (I'm a teacher), I had a good chuckle at myself. And yes, all student comments are things I've overheard in my own classes. Children...they're the fodder for so much excellent fiction.

I keep hoping someone will post some biting, critical commentary. I could use it, I'm sure. And, seeing as I dole it out all day long on my student's writing, I'd appreciate some back!


	7. Voices High and Hoarse

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Billy and Charlie looked uncomfortable with the question, glancing at each other, suddenly disinterested in their fried fish.

Billy spoke first, setting his fork down. He made a grim face. "The truth is, a lot of people might, right?" He looked at Charlie for confirmation.

Charlie nodded reluctantly, "I wouldn't know where to begin. I mean, when he was younger, he was all fun, but...you get older. It isn't funny anymore, to…" his voice trailed off, and he looked sideways at Billy, who gave an infinitesimal shake of his head.

Watching closely, Bella returned silently to her own food, saving her questions for when she could ask Charlie alone.

"This is really good," Billy added, a little too cheerily, "thanks you two, for making dinner."

Bella and Jacob looked at each other sideways, trying to keep the disappointment off their faces.

"He's missing, but, that's not unusual for him," said Charlie, shrugging.

"It's been almost a week Dad. Aren't you at all worried? And that blood—have you got the results back yet?"

He shook his head. "No guarantees we can, and even then, we don't have a sample to compare it to. Even if it is human."

The conversation drifted to less provocative topics after that.

With dinner over, and the dishes away, Jacob and Bella drifted back to his room, to talk quietly about what they'd found so far.

Sitting down together on the bed, Jacob's focus was drifting. Their backs were against the wall, Bella's feet tucked up underneath her, while Jacob's dangled loosely over the edge.

Bella was on his bed.

He kept snatching his thoughts back to the present, and crossed his legs, trying to listen to what she was saying.

Looking over at her, he could see her biting her lip.

 _She was nervous._

 _Was she…?_

 _No,_ he told himself again, firmly.

"So," she started, "I have something to tell you."

 _Oh my God—she does!_ he thought.

"About Godwin."

 _Oh_.

He tried not to let the emotional cave-in take his whole face.

 _Fricking vampires._

"I talked to him, the other night. At my house." She was watching him closely. "I asked him if he could help us. See if that blood was Dwayne's."

Relief flooded through him.

Then fear. And anger. And a hot possessiveness that made his skin wriggle of its own accord.

He stood up and did a fast, jiggly pace around the room.

"You had a vampire in your home." He was trying very hard not be angry.

She nodded, still watching him carefully.

He was about to ask if she knew how dangerous that was, but stopped himself. There was a ringing in his ears, and his focus was beginning to slip.

"Jake?"

She sounded like she was talking to him underwater.

"Are you angry? With me?"

Her voice, so small, became clear, as he heard the shake of her fear.

"No," he lied, smoothing down the edges of himself that were trying to burst into his other form.

"No," he said again, "just," searching for a suitable word, "alarmed."

 _There. Not quite a lie._

Charlie's head poked into the bedroom "Hey you two. 'S late. School tomorrow."

"Sure Dad," Bella said, "meet you at the car."

"Night Jake."

"Night Charlie."

 _A vampire. In her house._

"Bella," he said, taking a firm grip of her arm, "don't be reckless, please." He met her eyes, and was confused when the tears welled up in them. Surprised enough that he let go when she pulled roughy away.

He kept a few steps behind her as she went to the door, awkward with her shoes and coat. When he reached to help her put it on, he could see the wet streaks on her cheek.

"Night Jake," she rasped quietly, head down as she bolted out the door.

He sighed, watching the car pull away. _What had he said?_

"Girls are a mystery, even when the supernatural isn't involved," said his dad, rolling up behind him. "I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"I just told her not to be reckless. Did I say something wrong?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." His dad chuckled. "Mystery," he said again, before rolling towards his own room.

"Wait, Dad—why won't you tell us anything about Dwayne?"

Billy eyed him levelly. "I don't think anything bad has happened to him, and it isn't my place to spill the beans on him until I think there's a good reason."

Jacob grimaced. They'd been over this before. Still no progress.

"You really think he's fine?"

"No, but I don't think he's dead. And I certainly don't think a pair of teenagers need to go digging through his dirty laundry." He pushed himself away, again towards his room. "Night Jake. Let it go. Bella's a nice girl. I'm sure you can think of better things to do than make your cousin look bad."

The slightly too hard thunk of the door punctuated the end of the conversation.

He sighed. There were a lot of feelings swirling around inside him, and he longed for a simpler perspective on things.

Stepping outside, and stripping down, Jacob let himself become a creature better acquainted with the scents of the night.

He called out to Sam with his mind, and was not disappointed to find his voice.

 _Looking for something to chase?_ He asked.

 _Sure,_ came Jake's reply.

 _The non-stinky one?_ He asked.

 _No,_ Jacob thought reluctantly. _I don't think we'll find him, and even if we did, I don't think he's dangerous._

Sam's laugh was loud inside his head. _OK Jake. Suuuuure._

 _And Bella's asked him to help us find Dwayne_ , he added.

Silence, and waves of shock. And then relief at Jacob's memory. _If he matters to her, tell her to warn him off. We don't want their kind here. No matter what their diet is._

Jacob acquiesced silently.

 _Good_ , Sam said. _Let's check the perimeter._

 _Actually_ ….Jacob started.

 _You want to run north? Check on Bella?_ Sam supplied.

 _Yeah_ , he mumbled, a flurry of images and powerful feelings erupting, unbidden.

 _Dude, keep it clean. Please._

Jacob snorted. _Like you do?_

 _We try,_ came the gritted reply. _You could try harder._

 _Sure. I'm off. 'K?_

Sam's silent nod freed his pacing, and he was running, the freedom of it translated into the effortless striding lope he treasured, the night a perfect cover.

At the edge of the woods behind Bella's house, he paused for a moment, sniffing carefully. Scenting for the almost nothing that was new leech's sign, he couldn't catch anything, and changed, sliding on his shorts in the cover of the trees. Most of the lights in the house were out, but a thin bloom of light was visible from her window.

Using the small maple at the front of the house for a leg up, he moved silently to the window, and tapped lightly. Her back to the window, she startled when she turned around. He couldn't tell if it was relief, or disappointment that coloured her cheeks.

"Hey," she said quietly, as she slid the window up, closing it as soon as he was inside.

She'd changed into her night clothes. Old ones, thin with wear, and the backlight of her lamp left the curves of her body clear. He would have blushed, but the blood had gone elsewhere.

He was grateful for the attention she was giving her notebook, and took a deep breath in, forcing his mind from the pleasant scenarios it was entertaining.

Turning away from him, she moved to the bed, patting a spot beside her absentmindedly.

 _She is not thinking what you're thinking_ , he reminded himself.

When he sat down, the slight dip in the mattress pressed their sides together.

 _Oh, god,_ the small, rational part of his brain thought.

She brushed her hair behind her ear.

He could feel the blood draining from his upper body. His hand slid behind her, bracing his position on the bed. He wondered how far he could slide that hand. Without stopping to consider the consequences, he put it around her waist, pulling her closer.

She leaned into him, and sighed.

There wasn't enough blood left to make a rational thought.

He took a careful breath, and swallowed.

Bella was enjoying Jacob's solid warmth. She was always cold, and his reassurance of their friendship, with a small hug, was a relief. _They could keep working together then_ , she thought.

"I don't think your cousin's coming back Jake," she said, her voice hoarse with weariness.

This was not where Jacob had imagined things going.

He let his hand slide slowly back to the bed, and tried very hard to focus only on her words.

It didn't work.

He was imagining taking her head in his hands. _She was so small, he could easily span it, his fingers weaving into her hair, and bringing their lips together. He could picture them leaning back into the pillows of the bed, her hands exploring his back…_

"I think we need to start asking around La Push. Talking to people. Your dad…" she sighed, "I don't know if he'll be OK with it." She looked sideways at him for insight here.

Jacob had no idea what she was talking about, but nodded anyway.

"I'm done most of my big projects and stuff for school. You have time after school tomorrow, ask around?" She was biting her lip again, tapping the end of the pencil against her upper lip.

He envied that pencil.

She looked at him again. Again, he hadn't registered a word she'd said. He nodded dumbly.

Glancing at the clock, she gave a small apologetic smile, "I should get some sleep," standing to say goodbye.

The spell broken, Jacob muttered, "yeah," standing himself.

"I'll come by your place after school, OK? Maybe you can think of some good places to start?"

With a curt nod, Jacob moved back to the window, sliding himself into the night.

From his habitual place, Godwin let a quiet, rusty chuckle bubble up from his chest. _Oh, to be young, and so gloriously deluded by one's virility._ He watched Jacob slither away, and felt himself absorbed by the scents and sounds of the forest.

* * *

 **Author's notes: I promise, the next chapter will feature more plot movement, and less fraught Jacob-Bella sexual tension (unless, you know, you want more?-you can always tell me via the comments, if you do!).**


	8. For glory none the damned would have

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Jakob?"

"Hmm?" came the sleepy reply.

"I should check on the flock," Godwin said quietly.

"Sure, go ahead." Jakob rolled to face him, stroking his fingers down Godwin's cheek. "Never enough time for sheep."

"You can afford to be easy about them, but I'm the one that gets a whipping if anything happens," Godwin muttered, standing.

That brought Jakob off the ground, both hands gripping Godwin's face, "Don't," he said sternly. "Don't be bitter."

Godwin's face was a study of it, hard and fraught.

Jakob covered the prim lips with his own. Sliding his hands into the snow of Godwin's hair, he felt the resistance translated into an energy he knew well. The warmth of the late sun radiated from the stones, as Jakob turned him to face the rough wall, their bodies moving tightly together in a familiar rhythm.

Their movement ended, they slid back down together, waiting for their breath to return.

"When I am Lord, you won't have to mind the sheep anymore," Jakob promised, again, a wide smile on his face.

Seeing it made the heat of the wall cold at his back, by comparison. "When," Godwin said. He wasn't so convinced this would be soon, or ever, watching the rattling in Jakob's chest. He let himself hope, the tightness in his throat an ache of worry each winter brought.

"When," repeated Jakob, "it will happen."

Bella's eyes opened.

Whoa.

T. M. I. Dude.

She blushed, remembering the vivid details of the dream, its precision leaving no ambiguity about the owner of the memory. The rustic details of it preoccupied her throughout school, and she was poor company for Angela at lunch, who looked at her repeatedly, concern written in the crinkle of her eyes.

Pushing her truck to its limits, she made good time down to La Push, and found Jacob waiting, practically hopping with energy.

"Hey!" He chirped, "you ready?"

"What? Your place a mess, don't' want to invite me in?" Bella teased.

"Uh, no...just, um…" and he looked sideways to where his dad sat, visible through the kitchen window.

Bella raised his eyebrows and lifted her hands, making the universal gesture for what-the-heck-are-you-talking-about?

"My dad doesn't approve of us doing what we're doing," he mumbled, steering her back towards her truck.

"Why?" Bella asked, disturbed, and concerned that Dwayne's well being seemed so unimportant to him.

"He thinks we're being unnecessarily nosy."

"OK, so, are we going to keep doing this, then? Or are you chickening out?" She turned to face him as she twisted the key into the ignition.

"Heck no. Drive on MacDuff!"

"You crack a book there Jake? Or did I not hear you correctly?"

"I may have been known to open one up once in awhile," he said, gesturing for her to turn left. "Pull up by Clive's. We'll head down the cross-street there and check in with a few people."

"Really? You've been reading?" Bella was impressed.

"So easily fooled by my act," he grinned. "Yes, Bella, I read. Just don't broadcast it, 'K?"

"Secret's safe with me," she said, miming throwing away a key.

"Hey Grant," Jacob called, waving to a man parked in a cheap lawn-lounger on porch kitty-corner to Clive's. "You haven't seen my dad's cousin Dwayne in the last while, have you?" Jacob pulled out a photograph, which Bella presumed was of Dwayne.

"Sure," Grant said, scratching at his grey beard, and adjusting his baseball cap. "Saw him 'bout a week ago, when he went into Clive's there." He pointed to the store, where Bella and Jacob had been themselves, a few days ago.

"Really?" Jacob asked, not wanting to insult his elder, but clearly doubting the truth of what he was hearing. "John said he hadn't seen him in years. Someone else working that day, you think?"

"Who?" Grant challenged. "Clive's barely makes enough to keep one man busy, let alone two." He scoffed at the notion. "Maybe John's taken to samplin' the merchandise, if you take my meaning," he said, an imaginary bottle tilted to his mouth.

"Seems to be a lot of that going 'round these days," Jacob muttered, under his breath.

"Who's your girlfriend here Jake? You gonna introduce me?" Grant smiled.

Jacob turned a furious shade of red, and Bella blanched white.

"We're just friends Grant, but thanks for making sure we feel totally awkward about it," Jacob said, recovering, and rolling his eyes. "'Preciate the help. Come on Bella, let's get outta here before he starts asking about wedding plans."

Grant's chuckle followed them out of his yard, along with a hoarse "a blind man could see it boy!"

Bella's whiteness turned to a flaming blush at that point.

"Just ignore him. He's bored."

Stopping back at the truck, they leaned against it.

"Which one do you trust more, Grant or John?" Bella asked, scribbling in her book again.

"Both," Jacob said. "I don't know what to make of the difference." They thought for a bit longer, "Let's just ask a few more people."

Quietly, and as discreetly as possible, they checked in at four more houses, and got the same information.

Dwayne had been at Clive's.

Why would John hide that? Was he forgetting things? Drinking? Lying?

"Could there be some...pardon the phrasing, but 'bad blood' between them?" Bella speculated, rubbing her hands together as they sat in the cold cab.

"Could be anything," Jacob shrugged, "but I don't want to confront John about it. And I don't want you to either"

Bella offered her words tentatively. "We could ask Godwin to help."

Jacob closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. "He can't come here, Bella. He was lucky—last time. Don't ask him to. It'll just be trouble."

"You could—"

"No." He said firmly, "I can't. And I wouldn't, even if I could."

"You—" she started, angry, and frustrated, her mouth twisted, "you're so prejudiced," she gritted out.

"Oh, yeah. Vampires. They're fricking awesome. Just amazing. I mean, look how well things have worked out with all the ones you've known." He turned and held her gaze, and watched the anger crumple. It was like watching a building coming down.

"Get out," she spat through her teeth.

Jacob complied, slamming the door behind him.

It was a long ride home for Bella, and a longer walk for Jacob.

He forced himself to think about what she'd said, really consider his motivation for what he'd thrown at her.

Bella stewed. She had no reason to doubt her conclusions. But her certainly didn't help her feel any better.

After a sulky evening at home, she finally retreated to her homework, and the comfort of her bed, tentatively reaching for the Bronte sisters.

The flashes of dreams, not her own, were stunning, at first, and then terrifying.

Faces. Each one of them recalled with perfection. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Chocolate brown. Onyx hair, Flax, Silver and startling Bronze.

And then red. Fiery, vibrant red hair, and equally crimson eyes.

Victoria.

She woke to a gasping breath, and clutched the comforter with two hands, willing herself to stay awake. Shaking.

Was she back?

Taking a deep breath, she opened the window, and called out softly, "no more, please. I can't." She closed it, and for good measure, locked it too.

The night passed onwards, dreamlessly, for Bella, in fits of sleep that were broken by startled wakings.

Godwin entertained his memories silently, and solitarily, summoning the memory of a man walking silently down a long forest road. His journey ended in a pool of blood.

* * *

Author's notes: Thank you, folks, for all your thoughtful commentary! I appreciate the push to let Jacob have some more depth. I'll see where the plot takes me on this.


	9. I discern athwart the dusky light

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Charlie had left by the time Bella woke up. She was quietly relieved. It left her free to worry without having to mask it. _Was Victoria back?_ _Or, had he just encountered her before, and was remembering her?_ She itched to ask him, but couldn't quite put her finger on the uneasiness she felt around him. He was... _off_ , somehow. Not quite right.

She snorted at herself.

 _He was a vampire._

With a quick shake of her head, she abandoned the thought of speaking with Godwin again. _Best to leave it be. Too much potential trouble for Jacob._

Uncharitable feelings for her friend made themselves known, but she shoved those aside too. She could really use someone to talk to. A sudden, and unexpected longing to talk with Alice washed over her. The edges of it had crept over her defenses, and she had to stomp them down back into the pit where she kept such things.

 _No_ , she told herself, and grabbed her notebook, the quickest distraction at hand. She flicked through it to a blank page, and began drawing a diagram of where she thought Dwayne had walked, noting the placement of the store, and the neighbours she and Jacob had talked to.

 _It would help_ , her mind thoughts for itself, _if you could talk with Jacob._ She gritted her teeth and kept on writing and drawing.

The click of the stove clock made her look up. _Crap!_ She was going to be late for school.

She raced out the door, grabbing her bag and coat as she went. The frost on the stairs sent her sliding flat on her backside, and she muttered several things she was glad no one was around to hear. Moving more carefully, she got herself to her truck, and set herself down gingerly, the backs of her thighs making smart remarks that shot up her spine.

She arrived a few, damnable minutes late, mentally preparing herself for the petty scolding she'd get from Mr. Berty.

Eyes down at the door, she was pleasantly surprised to see a smart set of heels, and a pair of legs that definitely didn't belong to Mr. Berty.

"Come on in," called a friendly voice, "glad you're here." There was no note of judgemental sarcasm, just warm welcome.

As un-Berty as they came.

"Thanks," Bella mumbled, catching a glimpse of a warm smile, and soft brown curls. She followed the outstretched hand to the only empty seat at the front of the class, and sat down as quietly and carefully as she could.

"So, Mr. Berty's left some notes. You're looking at _The Inferno_? Yes?"

A set of mumbled grunts answered her.

"Hmm, yes. So, how many of you have actually read it—" Hands went up. "Oh, no, I don't mean that you've looked at the online summary." She gave a knowing smile, her eyes crinkled in the corner. "I mean, _actually_ read it."

Bella looked around, hers and Angela's were the only hands up.

"OK, not terribly surprising" she surveyed the room, "let's start by me reading a little bit of it to you."

A groan went up from the room.

"Don't worry. I mean from the new translation, unabridged. The good stuff." She had whipped out a copy that was thicker than their own, and featured a glossy red cover, a flame and an image of a pitchfork over it.

Several people around Bella leaned forward in their seats.

Bella wondered what kind of person carried a copy of _The Inferno_ around with them, but leaned back, arms folded, ready to hear what she might have missed.

The substitute had a beautiful speaking voice, and the hills and valleys of her intonation pulled Bella into a pleasant somnolence and distraction from the worries of the previous night. Her reading was broken by her thoughtful interpretation, and soon she had the class divided into groups drawing what they'd heard, and experimenting with different perspectives.

A few minutes before the bell, she assigned the homework Berty had left them. Another round of groans met the announcement.

"Oh, don't think I'm leaving you with such dreary thoughts. Here's something to carry you through the day," and she flipped open her book again, the verse a familiar language to her:

" _Love, which pardons no beloved from loving,_

 _took me so strongly with delight in him_

 _That, as you see, it still abandons me not"_

"Even in death," she smiled, "Love continues on. Chew on that today."

The bell had rung, and Bella slipped gratefully from her seat to the solitary, and frosty stand of trees outside. She looked around carefully before letting herself settle against one of the trees. She loved trees, but Godwin was becoming an uncanny associate of all the ones she touched.

The surface layers of her mind were processing the teacher's words, but the deeper currents were pulling off chunks of her, setting them loose in powerful waves of feeling that made breathing an intentional activity.

 _In_ , she coached herself, and _out_. _In_ , and _out_.

The day moved slowly, pedantically on, and the homework piled up. Returning home, Bella could feel the heaviness weighing on her. The thought of cheerily facing Charlie, masquerading her way through normalcy and dinner, was daunting.

She put her books on the dining room table, and sat, contemplating what to make.

A sharp rap at the door startled her, and a sudden fear gripped her. What if it was…?

 _No_ , she thought to herself, _Victoria probably wouldn't knock_.

 _If she was here at all._

 _Stop freaking out over nothing._

The knock came again, louder, more impatient.

She wrenched open the door, her stomach a anxious knot.

"Hey," said Jacob, surprised by the speed and force she'd used to open it.

"Hey," she breathed in obvious relief.

"You OK?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.

"Yeah," Bella said, "come in."

Jacob didn't sit down, but stood, shifting his weight awkwardly from side to side. "I wanted to apologise for yesterday. You didn't—"

"It's OK, Jake, I get it." Bella waved her hand dismissively. "You were right. I just…" she took another deep breath in. She pressed her lips together and let the air out again.

Jacob just nodded, extending his eyes wide in an invitation to a hug.

Bella didn't hesitate, but wrapped her arms around him.

When it ended, Jacob held her at arm's length, eyebrows together. "You're worried about something."

It was a statement, not a question.

 _You should tell him_ , the logical part of her brain chided her. The emotional side warned back, _you'll only make him worry needlessly. Or take risks. Don't do it_.

With a deep breath in, Bella let the logical part of her brain have its way. "Have there been any...vampires around? Lately?" she asked.

Jacob's face fell, "If you're wondering about the Cullens—" he started.

Bella clutched her midsection without even realizing it, "No," she interrupted, "not them. Others, I mean—"

"Like Godwin? Or Laurent?" he asked, looking confused again.

"Any others?" She swallowed, praying silently.

"Just one."

"What do they look like?" Bella asked.

"Woman, fast, skinny, curly red hair."

Bella sat down suddenly.

"Bella? What's wrong?"

"Has she been here a lot?"

"Yeah. She keeps coming back, but runs away." He grimaced in clear frustration. "We don't know what she's been after."

"I do," Bella whispered. "Me."

"What? Why?"

Bella launched into the story behind Victoria, and the reason for her return.

"We need to go see Sam, and you need to stay on the rez as much as possible," Jacob said, looking around the house.

"What about Charlie?" Bella asked, worried Victoria would find him instead.

"It's March madness, I think we can keep Charlie on the rez too. Don't worry. We'll get her. You'll be safe." He rested his hand on her arm, and the thought of protecting her made his heart swell with a happiness he knew was wrong to feel. _She was in danger_ , he reminded himself, _that isn't a good thing_. A annoying part of his mind piped up with, _but it means you get to spend lots of time with her_.

"Jake," Bella said, "do you think Godwin is different enough from Victoria, that he might help?"

That stopped all of Jacob's fuzzy feelings and thoughts. The answer was hard, and cold.

"No." His mouth was a grim line. "I don't care how different you think he is Bella. He can kill people, and by his own admission, he has."

"So can you, Jake."

He snorted, "And so can you, but you haven't. And neither have I."

"His choices define him. He doesn't hurt people—you heard him."

"And you expect me to take him at his word?" He snorted, leaning back against the counter, arms folded.

They were right back at the crux of their argument.

Bella rubbed her face in her hands. Between the slits of her fingers she could see Jacob shifting, his arms unfolded, uncertainty in his stance.

She made sure of her voice before she spoke. "I don't want you hurt, Jake. Any of you. He could help."

Jacob's answer was softer, but he wasn't being moved in his opinion. "We don't need help, Bella, we'll be fine. Remember—Laurent? Fine."

"Victoria's different Jake, and you know it."

"Sure," he snorted, "she runs away faster. She isn't something to worry about, Bella. You'll be fine, and so will we."

She shook her head, giving up on the argument for now. Time to move on to something else. "I'm not ready for homework right now. Want to go do something completely irresponsible and fun?" She asked, eyebrows raised inquiringly.

Jacob grinned widely. "Sure."

"Bikes?" She asked, grabbing her coat.

"Bikes," Jacob affirmed, happy to get her close to home, closer where he could protect her.

And they were gone, not even aware of the pale eyes that watched them from the forest canopy.

* * *

A thick cloud front had pushed in some unusually warm air for the winter, and Bella had left her window open part way, enjoying the very crisp, but fresh air, that was keeping her focused on her school reading. It was early evening, and the dusky light had prompted her to switch on her desk lamp. Bent over her homework, she jumped at Godwin's soft voice.

"Gah!" She exclaimed, laying a hand on her thumping heart.

Godwin watched her curiously as she took deep breaths, entirely still from his vantage at the window.

"Can you not do that?" she breathed out.

"What?" He asked.

"Appear out of nowhere," she gritted out.

"I wasn't," he said, "I was in the tree." He pointed to the one where he liked to sit.

"Oh," Bella said, unsure what else to say to his obtuse literalism.

"I thought I might help you," he said, now seeming unsure of himself, his brow furrowing lightly.

"With my homework?" Bella asked, beginning to feel a little exasperated.

Godwin didn't think he'd much help with housework. "With Victoria," he murmured quietly.

"Right," Bella breathed out, after a moment. "How do you know about her?"

"I overheard you, and the boy talking."

She looked at him, keenly uneasy. They both knew that wasn't true. He knew who she was, or at least her face. _But_ , she thought to herself, _what I have I got to lose_? He could kill her, but Victoria wouldn't let up until she was dead, anyway. _Or worse_ , her mind supplied, _Jake, or Charlie._

"You showed me her face, in my dream, before that. Where do you know her from?"

"Here," he said, gesturing widely, looking out the window.

"At my house?" she swallowed, feeling her stomach drop to the floor.

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "In the forest, at its edges. Closer to where I met you first."

Bella folded her arms, squeezing her stomach, which was queasy with worry. _Could Jake and the others really defend her against Victoria? It seemed so tenuous._ _If Godwin could help…_

"Did she talk to you?" Bella asked, suddenly curious. _What would she have said_?

Godwin shook his head again, "no, others...they don't. I am different."

A new thought occurred to Bella, "Is she afraid of you, Godwin?"

"Not afraid, no...repelled, yes," he said, growing quiet with the word. "I'd never considered that to be an advantage before," he said with a bitter chuckle.

Bella's own unease in his presence was returning. She wondered if this was how other vampires felt around him. Perhaps it was his gift?

"Has it always been this way? With others?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he said, tilting his head slightly, looking at her. "You seem to be able to speak with me, though. Without wanting to run away."

Possibilities swirled for Bella. "Maybe it's part of your gift, Godwin."

"My gift?" he asked, feeling incredulous. _To share dreams, yes, but to repel others_?

"Yes, some vampires have gifts. Some can see the future, others can feel others emotions, hear their thoughts…" her voice trailed off as she erected the wall of memory.

That others of his kind had gifts was no surprise, but her reaction to listing these things was intriguing. "Your friends?" He prodded gently, "the Cullens?"

She nodded, quietly. Her posture slumped every so slightly. He was eager to hear more, but stopped himself, watching her stare grow hazy.

"I will stay...nearby then," he said. "The wolves don't seem to sense me. I will keep you safe," he added.

"Not near where they live, though," she said sharply, looking at him. "They'll hurt you, if they find you there."

He nodded solemnly.

"Thank you, Godwin," she said, entirely uncertain of what this would mean.

He paused, as he half-turned to go, "may I ask something of you?"

Bella froze, wondering just what kind of bargain she might have made _. I've just accepted a vampire's protection_ , she told herself. _What would he want in return_? Surely...

"Will you...will you hear my memories?"

Of all things, she wasn't expecting that.

"Sure," she mumbled, surprised, and more clearly, "yes, I will."

He slipped out the window, leaving Bella to contemplate just how many vampires and werewolves were concealed in the dark. Just to make herself feel better, she got up and closed the window, locking it too.

Returning to her desk, she did her best to pretend that her worst problem was getting through her Pre-Calculus homework before a decent time tonight.

It didn't work.

Her eyes flitted to the window, and the many possibilities each passing sound could mean. Or absence of them. They strayed into the fragile path of her concentration, and by ten, she'd given up the pretense of studying.

After a quick shower, she reached for a comfortably worn paperback, and lost herself in the eloquent, and obdurately 18th century opinions of the Brontȅ sisters.


	10. Dreaming must soon reveal itself

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Godwin had lingered, long after MIchael's many, and stern warnings against it had become soundless echos of the mind. It was easy to stay hidden, and the forest left ample space between him and the people he once called friends, and family.

His eyes had grown a deep, and dark black, before he'd been so desperate as to lash out at one of cats left to access the manor's kitchens. It had tasted rancid, but his body didn't reject the nourishment it provided, and Godwin had ventured further, leaving his gifts of mysteriously bloodless, and expertly gutted carcasses of deer, and rabbits where the ones he'd once loved could easily find them.

At Jakob's door.

He had, as expected, become Lord.

And such a one, too.

Jakob's once lithe figure had grown soft. Godwin wondered, fleetingly, if his flesh would respond to him in the way it once had.

He doubted it.

He had watched as glints of grey coloured a beard he'd never been able to brush his fingers through. Saw his hands make the heads of the stable boys smart—and the new herd lad, too.

But his hands had also softened those blows, in ways that Godwin was familiar with.

An unwelcome kernel of jealousy had flourished then, and blossomed, like a Christmas rose, when the men had brought their yule logs to the manor house.

Excusing himself with a smoothness Godwin knew well, the Lord had found a dark corner in warmth of the stable with which to make use of the herd boy. The whispered promises remained the same.

Godwin himself only had to whisper Jakob's name to lure him out once his rutting was done.

"Who's there?" Jakob called into the night, shoo-ing the boy away. His voice was blurred at the edges.

"Your judgement," Godwin said, his voice a husk of itself.

"Farley, if this is your silly business about your damn goats, we'll settle in the daylight."

"Are you afraid to meet your judgement, Jakob?"

A pause.

"Godwin?" he called, "Have you come back?" His words were coloured with an uneasy hope.

"Come and see." He let his feet rasp across the stable yard's dirt. Outside the gate, he darted between the forest road's trees. He felt almost giddy with the fresh possessiveness that clutched at his chest. Mine, it said. Mine.

Jakob's steps were so unsure in the dark. It was almost comical. How utterly reversed they were now.

"Godwin? Is it really you?"

Was he afraid? Yes, Godwin realized, he was. "It's alright Jakob, it's me," he called. Timing his movement with the clouds, he stepped into the fresh moonlight.

Jakob gasped, but not in the joy of recognition, or reunion.

In horror. Mind-deadening, gut-twisting fear.

"No—it's alright," Godwin said, reaching out his hand.

"No!" Jakob said, trying to snatch his arm away.

Godwin didn't want to let go. No, his mind thought. Mine! screamed his body. And he made sure of his grip with both hands.

The sickening wet crunch, and the answering gush of blood at his feet were momentarily incomprehensible, and he stood, making sense of the limp flesh between his hands.

When the world had returned to itself, and his mind could process the work of his body, he had cradled Jakob's remains, carrying them to the depth of the woods, where he could bury them deeply.

He had left the pool of blood to be found.

Where the edge of one dream ended, another began, and Bella turned over restlessly, sleep not ready to release its grip of her.

This time, the dream was her own.

About her Jacob.

Her body settled into the bed, arms relaxed, hands twitching slightly, with the intention of movement.

They were sitting on her bed, looking over her notes, and Jacob's right hand had settled at her hip. Its pleasant warmth seeped into her, spreading, and she could feel it tugging at the edges of the round pain in her chest, the thump of her heart, and the warmth, beating together in a loud rhythm. She looked up from her notes, and turned to head towards him. He was already facing her.

Their friendship, she was, was a hastily built, child's fort, of dining room chairs and couch cushions, held together by bed sheet snatched from the laundry. The proximity of their faces was like a stone, stuck in the middle of the fort, dragging down the sheet, revealing the crudeness of its underpinnings.

That was it.

She felt exposed.

The look lingered, and the heat spread. The pulsing was drawing close the emptiness, a draw-string purse.

Jacob leaned forward. The purse tightened, almost shut, and Bella closed her eyes. She could feel a radiant heat close to her lips—

"Bella," came Charlie's voice.

"Wha—?" Bella muttered, opening her eyes.

"It's almost 8, honey." He was sitting beside her on the bed.

"Oh my god, I'm late," she said, throwing off the covers.

"Just hold on," he said, putting a hand on her arm. "I called the school—it's OK. You can be late."

"Why aren't you at work?" Bella wondered, suddenly.

"Forgot a case file," he said, "came back for it. Saw you were asleep."

"Why didn't you—?" Bella started.

He held up a hand to stop her. "I called them half an a hour ago. I figured you needed the sleep. You look tired."

Bella's stomach was a tight ball of worry. "I have a test first period, Dad. I can't—"

"Being the police chief has a few perks, Bella, and being able to tell your English teacher to cut you some slack is one of them."

"Dad, not to pop your grandiose ideas about yourself, but, really, what kind of pull could you possibly have?" She eyed him levelly, standing up, gathering clothes from her dresser.

"When you cut people some slack on traffic tickets, they remember it."

"Really?" Bella giggled, "Mr. Berty?"

"You'd be surprised what I know about people in this town," he grimaced, and then sighed. "I gotta run back to the station," he said, waving the file at her. "Be home a bit later than usual. Actually, probably a lot later. You got plans with Jake?"

"I can," she said, blushing, and blanching, as the content of her dreams surfaced. "Yeah, I guess so." The blush won out eventually, and she turned away to fiddle with some papers on her desk.

Charlie felt an unexpected lump of happiness, watching Bella's reaction. "Sounds good." Don't make a big deal of it, he reminded himself. You can grin like an idiot in the car.

"Thanks, Dad, for calling the school. I have been tired lately." She was looking at her clothes, in her arms, her mind a jumble of thoughts about Jacob, Godwin, school, Dwayne….school. She was going to have to make up that test. Well, maybe Berty wouldn't be a jerk about it, all things considered.

"See ya Bells," he said, rubbing his hand on her shoulder as he walked out of her room.

"Bye, Dad," she whispered, still lost in her thoughts.

* * *

"Man, how'd you get out of that test, without Berty exploding all over your ass?" asked Mike, and then stuffed half a slice of pizza in his mouth. "Come on," he mouthed around his food, "spit it out."

"You're going to spit out that piece of pizza if you're not careful, Mike," Jessica snapped, beside him.

Bella shrugged, not eager to share more than she needed to, with them, "He called, said I wasn't feeling well this morning." They looked at her, eyebrows raised, "I wasn't," she added defensively.

Jessica rolled her eyes.

Mike looked disappointed, but didn't press her further.

The conversation continued on around her, and Bella sunk into her familiar pool of thoughts. She avoided the content of her previous night's dreams, and continued with her detached speculation around the reason for Dwayne's disappearance.

Most crimes, she knew, from her limited second-hand knowledge as a police officer's daughter, began as some sort of bad feeling grown out of hand.

What would Dwayne have done?

She knew he was a drinker, but he'd managed to maintain a long marriage with Betty. But I don't know what kind of relationship that was...or is, she reminded herself. She'd watched enough of her friends' parents to know that longevity guaranteed nothing in terms of the quality of the relationship.

Who would Dwayne have pissed off?

And did he come back to make things right. Her dad had hinted at it, of course, but, it was just speculation.

John's omission, or outright lie, bothered her too.

Or maybe he's just incredibly forgetful. Some people are like that, she thought, thinking of her own mother, and smiling a little.

The jarring whir of the school bell made her jump, as she realised people were getting up and gathering their things. She reached for her bag, and stood, somehow, managing to trip over the strap, spilling the contents of her bag all over the floor.

"Whoa," Mike said, reaching down to help her up.

Jessica stood by, looking at the stretch of her possessions: wallet, evidence bags, gloves, bear spray, books, papers, keys, and a small box of tampons.

"Starin' your own crime lab there Bella?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, as she handed the evidence bags back to her.

"Something like that," Bella mumbled, stuffing things back in as fast as they handed them to her.

The second bell had rung before Bella was done gathering up her things, Jessica having left wordlessly, and Mike with a quiet "gotta run".

She tried to slip into pre-calculus as quietly as possible, but a caught the tail end of a snide "nice of you to join us, Ms. Swann," as she slumped into her seat. The emphasis of her last name told her all she needed to know about how Charlie's excuse had gone down with Berty. She was now officially the kid who had their dad pulling favours for them.

Crap. "Sorry, sir," she mumbled, trying to find her books in the mess of her backpack.

The school day didn't improve much beyond that, and Bella breathed a sigh of relief when she climbed into her truck.

She didn't even bother stopping at home, but drove straight to Jacob's.

She parked her truck, seeing him to the side of the house. He was chopping wood, the easy swing splicing the logs evenly, his rhythm unbroken by her arrival. She watched him for a moment, wondering why he hadn't stopped to greet her. Maybe he was too busy to hang out today? She flinched guiltily. She had taken up a lot of his time lately. He had school too. And other obligations, she knew too well.

Shaking her head, she chided herself for worrying too much.

"Hey Jake," she said quietly, approaching him from behind, careful to stay out of the range of the chips that were spraying off his quick axe cuts.

"Hey, Bella," he answered, grimacing slightly.

"What's up?" she asked, unsure what to make of his terse greeting.

"Your dad called," he said, taking another swing. "The blood test results came back. It's human—not that we didn't know that—but your dad wanted to let my dad know that they were treating Dwayne as a missing person, and potentially a homicide. He asked dad for a DNA sample. It didn't go down well."

"Your dad's upset because—" Bella began, confused.

"My dad thought Charlie suspected him," Jacob grinned, grimly. "Charlie did explain that he was looking to see if it was Dwayne's blood, but Billy was already in a bad mood. Then he hung up, and lit into me."

"I'm sorry, Jake—" Bella started.

"It's not your fault," Jacob said quickly, putting his hand on her arm. "I think Billy's worried, and well, it's easier to be angry, than be upset."

"Oh," Bella said, surprised at Jacob's insight.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and grinned impishly. "I think I just gained another ten years there Ms. forty-year-old."

Bella blushed. "Colour me impressed," she managed, "I'm all embarrassed to be out-insighted by a teenage boy."

"You're just jealous," he said, smiling broadly. "Come on, let's go find something suitably irresponsible to do."

"Like, investigate a missing person?"

"At Embry's place? With some pizza? And a movie?" Jake asked hopefully.

Rolling her eyes, but seeing his need for some time away from the moodiness at his own house, Bella murmured sure, and looked meaningfully in the direction of the shed, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.

Jake nodded, and they walked over, Bella tripping on the rough ground. Jacob caught her by the hip, and a flash of last night's dream returned to her. "I'm good," she muttered, and walked more carefully towards their bikes.

Embry had been happy to see them, and even happier when they ordered pizza on Bella's dime. Suitably numbed by the action movie on the TV, and the soporific effect of the pizza, Bella was surprised when Embry asked, "So, how's your investigation going?" Of course, he hooked the word with dramatic finger quotes, and then snickered.

"Aw, you're just jealous you only get to chase vampires, Embry," Jacob said, snatching the last piece of pizza.

Embry laughed good naturedly, but became a bit more serious. "You know, you're pissing some people off, hey?"

"Like who?" Bella asked, suddenly more alert.

"Whole bunch of people at Clive's weren't happy you were asking around. Grumbling about people interfering in old business," he said, taking a slurp of soda.

Bella shot Jacob a sideways look. He shrugged, but tilted his head in Embry's direction, and Bella took his encouragement, pressing on with the questions.

"What kind of business?" She kept her tone light, but was holding down a wave of excitement. If they'd provoked grumpiness, they'd hit on something someone didn't want brought up.

"Well, my Aunt Colleen, for starters. She and Dwayne…" he trailed off, blushing.

Oh, thought Bella.

Embry sighed. "And there was John's wife, that thing...you know," he nodded at Jacob.

Jacob was looking at him with surprise, "No, actually, I don't. Spill the beans!"

"Dude, everyone knows your cousin was a total player—and not just with people who were available" Embry was sitting, awkwardly on the couch arm rest, clearly not happy to have to relay this news.

Bella's and Jacob's eyebrows shot up in a synchronized action.

This changes who to look at, thought Bella. Maybe that's why—

Her thought was interrupted by Embry's Mom, yelling from the kitchen. "Jacob! Your dad wants you home—now. He doesn't sound happy."

"Oh, yeah, crap, I said I need to take him to his buddy's for poker night." He stood up. "Come on, Bella, sorry to cut this short."

Sighing, she stood too. She began the process of mentally reconciling herself to an exciting few hours of homework, and then bed.

Parting ways outside of his house, Bella drove slowly back out along the main road. Looking at the gas gauge, she realised she would have to stop for gas. Cursing her poor planning, she pulled into Clive's, whose prices were reliably higher than the station in Forks.

A sullen looking teenager ambled out to pump her gas, and Bella, not sure what to do with herself, wandered towards the store to buy a coke. It might keep her awake long enough to get her homework done. On the way, she tripped, over the bell cable that ran across the concrete pad. She caught herself, tripping sideways into the broken ice machine by the door. She was surprised to feel it was cold.

John was at the till when she came in, and she settled on some chocolate covered peanuts, to go with her drink.

"You got your ice machine fixed," she said, trying to make friendly conversation, while he punched in the numbers.

"So?" He said, a surly curl to his lip. He slapped her change on the counter.

Embry was right, she thought, he is cranky. "Thanks," she muttered, and made a hasty exit, running into the boy who'd pumped her gas.

"Sorry," she said quietly, and got to her truck as quickly as she could.

"Uh, miss, you forgetting something?" he said, following her.

"Oh, gosh, right. Sorry. What do I owe you?"

"It's $17.35."

Handing him two worn tens, she mumbled "Keep the change," and pushed the gas pedal roughly, trying to shake the feeling that John was coming after her. As she rounded the corner, she looked back to the left, and could see him, hands on the counter, eyes following her.

She shook her shoulders out as she approached the highway, and reminded herself that the pack, and Godwin were looking out for her.

It didn't help.

She didn't need to remind herself that other eyes were watching too.

Because they were.

* * *

Author's notes: Interesting to hear reader's desires in the comments. I wonder what else they want, but don't tell me. Or if anyone's actually reading this. Still, it's fun to write this tale. Happy reading whoever comes this way.

PS: Godwin didn't eat his lover, or drink him either-as a reader commented. The death was entirely accidental, and he crushes him unintentionally.


	11. Wherewith he burns

**Wherewith he burns**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The images of last night's dreams kept fluttering up, odd words in her reading sparking connections she would prefer to leave disconnected

Jacob. Godwin. Jakob.

 _Edward._

She shuddered. His visage, so carefully unthought, and yet perfectly preserved in her memory, swum before her. And his words, his fear that he would do so to her.

 _Godwin had._

She shut down the thoughts, and returned her mind to the last pages of _The Inferno_. It wasn't staying put though, and kept wandering back to subject she would prefer to leave alone.

Charlie's voice was a happy distraction, "Bella?" He called from downstairs.

"Hi dad," she said, standing up and stretching, "you burning the midnight oil?"

"Hah," he said, a bitter edge to his voice, "yeah, guess so." He was hanging up his jacket as she came down the stairs.

"You eat already?" She asked, wandering to the fridge, looking to see if she had something for his dinner.

"Uh-huh," he said, sitting down heavily on the couch, "we did," and rested his head on the back. "Oh, man, I forgot to get ice," he said rubbing his face.

"I can get that tomorrow with the groceries," she said, "fishing?"

"Yeah, Harry and I are going out tomorrow. Thank you."

Bella tried not to wrinkle her nose. She knew that the ice would keep the fish out the fridge until he was ready to gut it. She mentally added it to the shopping list.

"We'll be out early, and back late," he said, still rubbing his eyes. He stopped his rubbing, and added "That OK? I've been leaving you alone a lot, lately." He was watching her closely.

She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine, dad. I've got lots of homework to keep me busy, and I think I might go hang out with Jake. Seeing as you're likely stealing his dad too?" She smiled slightly.

"I'm glad that Jake's a good friend to you." His small smile matched hers perfectly.

It had been a long day for both of them, and they both made their way to bed soon after. Bella was grateful to welcome sleep, and a dreamless night.

* * *

The day had dawned an unusual mixture of clouds and sun, the sharp rays slicing through for moments, then silenced by a quickly moving cloud front. The trees were tipped over at the tops by the wind, bent in a wobbly prayer to the east.

Bella got the groceries and the laundry done quickly, putting everything away, and turning herself south in her truck, to meet Jacob.

The rain was coming in intermittent showers, and Bella had to keep turning the wipers on and off on the highway, grumbling as they scraped across her windshield every time she passed a patch of rain. Her next car, she told herself, would have adjustable wiper settings.

She snorted at herself, remembering someone else who wanted her to have another car.

She shook the thought away, focusing on the road, feeling the emptiness spreading inside. A firm grip on the wheel, she let the thought of her dream Jacob surface, remembering the feeling of the drawstring closing, tightening away the hurt inside.

When she arrived at Jacob's house, she found him comfortably ensconced on the couch, a basketball game in front of him.

"Hey," she said, poking her head in the door. "You alive in there?"

"Yeah, come on in," he called back, "game's almost over. Your sporty torture will be short."

She smiled, wiping her shoes on the door mat. He knew her well.

"Thanks," she said, when he scooted over, making room for her beside him.

The couch was old, and sagged generously. Her weight and Jacob's made it dip in the middle, sliding them together, inevitably touching at the hip. The ride down had been cold in the wind, and the truck's old heater had done little to combat the elements. Jacob's heat was a pleasant contrast to the clamminess she still felt

She sighed, relaxing into his side, not bothering to try to keep distance between them.

It felt comfortable.

Safe.

His arm was stretched behind her, over the top of the couch, and it slipped, ever so slowly, lower and lower, as he shifted his legs, down and between her back and the couch.

It settled on her hip.

Bella closed her eyes, knowing the ache inside, remembering the dream.

You're not asleep, her thoughts reminded her.

But this feels good, she thought, purposefully. And the string of that purse of agonies closed tighter.

She leaned into him, her head resting on the forward curve of his shoulder, her right hand on his chest.

He was remarkably still, and his heart thumped faster than she expected.

Jacob reminded himself, in what felt like a million repetitions. Be cool. Don't move. You might ruin the moment. Long game. Long game. Play the long game. The phrases repeated in a monotonous mantra, as he tried to relax, and savour what he knew could be a fleeting moment.

Bella's fingers moved back and forth, extending and contracting, tracing an invisible pattern he wanted to understand. It was like having an electric current running through him.

Her hand stilled, and clenched at his shirt as she moved herself over. Her intention was unmistakable, and the shock of her cool lips on his warm ones broke the rhythm of his mental chant. He matched her grip, and brought his arms around her, eliminating all space between them.

The purse strings were tight, and the last of the pain flickered, and died inside. Bella sighed into the kiss, pulling Jacob's shirt towards her, trying to draw him in even tighter than he was.

Jacob took the hint, and allowed himself to be pulled around to her front, sliding his hands to cradle her head, and her back, not breaking the contact of their kiss.

Bella's hands found the hem of his shirt, and slid under it to his skin. The kiss intensified, and a shiver ran up Jacob's body.

 _Was he cold_? A small voice in her mind wondered, but the heat continued, and the shivers with it. Pressed against the give of the couch, she could feel the hardness of his flesh against her, the shuddering unrelieved.

Then it clicked, what the shivering was.

And the voice, _his_ voice, came roaring back to her.

 _Stop, now! He's about to change._

Opening her eyes, Bella could see what her subconscious was telling her.

The scars of Emily's face flashed in her mind's eye.

The beautiful voice screamed at her to stop.

It ripped open the scabbed wound, a wave of nauseating guilt making her shudder now. She pushed back against Jacob, and pulled her face away.

"Stop!" She said, scrambling back, getting up shakily.

"Bella, wait—" he started.

"No, I have to go," she blurted out, and ran for the door, tripping over the mat, scraping her hands as she went.

She started the truck, and pushed the gas so that gravel sprayed behind her as she pulled away from the house.

A few minutes away, the shaking made itself known again, and the adrenaline that she'd felt was pushing the choking sobs out of her. She pulled over, hoping Jacob hadn't followed. Checking around her, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief, and succumbed to the guilt, and the grief.

It was never going to stop, was it? The ache. There was temporary relief, but it was just that. Temporary. And she'd used Jacob. Fresh grief stabbed her in the gut. Her friend, she told herself, you've used your friend. And hurt him.

She bent over in the cab, trying to stop the pain in her gut, but it was useless.

It was just _there._

She began to feel the sinking sensation that the last few months had made so commonplace to her. The feeling like she was living under water, the distorted sounds of the world that reached her were slow, and almost surreal.

In this fog, suitably numbed, she turned the key mechanically in the ignition, and pulled away.

A remote part of her mind told her she'd forgotten to buy ice.

Not wanting to chance a meeting with anyone who would expect her to talk, in town, she pulled into Clive's. _The ice machine's fixed_ , her mind supplied. You can get ice here.

She pulled into the lone parking spot by the store, and walked, one foot in front of the other, towards the ice machine. A paper fluttered, taped on one edge, to the front of the machine. Maybe they have a sale on ice, her mind wondered. _Press the button_ , her mind instructed her, pull the latch, and she did. The murky darkness of the freezer surprised her. _D_ _idn't they normally have a light on inside, so you could see the bags?_

The paper flapped itself over in the wind, Do not open, Broken, it read.

The dark shape of a booted foot was clear in the day's alternating light.

The cloud front was moving, she realised. Light, and diffuse light.

Bella closed the ice box, and walked to the older model. This one had ice in it. And a light.

She pulled out a bag, and walked to the cash. John's surly face was as unhelpful as ever, and this time her change bounced on the counter, and she tried to make sense of what she'd done, that he should be so rude.

Their eyes met, and the angry flush of his face told her something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

 _Leave, Bella_ , said the voice. _Now. Leave._

And the pain flared inside, making Bella wince, and shudder.

"Thanks," she said, her manners so ingrained as to be involuntary.

"Yup," he gritted, not breaking eye contact.

She returned, just as mechanically to her truck, and started it. As she drove, the numbness began to recede, and the longing for the delusion of his voice grew, matched only in size by the correlating pain.

The curve of the road brought the cliffs into sight, and Bella's course of action became clear.

She needed his voice. The sweet relief even of its ghostly memory drew her hands to the right, pulling over, looking for the trailhead Jacob had mentioned.

There.

She almost floated above herself, the pleasant detachment of an ill-borne hope carrying her feet forward. She was so intent, that the noises of the forest were a dim background to her purpose. One foot in front of another, she brought herself closer to the open air beyond the tree line.

Fear was beginning to twist inside her though, as other sounds bubbled up through her consciousness.

Footsteps. Behind her. Twigs snapping not the rhythm of her own feet.

She paused, just beyond the scrum of arbutus and gnarled gary oak, and turned.

John was standing behind her.

John.

And Edward's voice became clear: Jump.

The wind picked up, and somewhere, Bella realized, the sound of an old tin roof piece, swinging on its last screw point, was screeching its protest against being moved in the storm.

She turned, the cliff edge at her back. She was stuck.

 _Jump Bella_ _,_ his voice whispered. _You can swim, but you can't win against his hands._

"You probably think I've done something wrong," he said, standing, hands at his sides.

 _Lie_ , the voice hissed.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Bella offered, weakly, her heart pounding.

He snorted, "considering you opened a freezer box with a dead body in it, I'm going to dismiss that as nerves. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to talk."

Don't believe him. He's lying, the voice whispered in her ear.

Bella closed her eyes momentarily, wishing her own delusions were more helpful. She opened them again, remaining silent, waiting to see what more he would say.

"Dwayne was the worst kind of person," he said, his fists curled at his sides. "You know? The kind that wrongs you ten ways to Sunday, then asks you to forgive them?"

Bella was imagining that there were worse kinds. The kind that murdered in vengeance, for example. Or by accident, her mind supplied, unbidden. Like Godwin.

She shuddered.

John saw her movements, and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You think you're so above this. Just wait. Wait until the person you've given yourself to leaves you for someone else. And when that someone else comes back, asking for forgiveness, don't think you'll give it, and walk away." The hands came out of the pockets again, and were flexing, his weight shifting angrily from side to side.

Bella took a careful step backwards, using her peripheral vision to ensure she wouldn't fall off the cliff. The crystal voice in her head screamed JUMP! at her again.

She swallowed instead.

"Frickin' walk the moon," he muttered against the wind, shaking his head.

"What?" She asked, her attention caught by the phrase Charlie had used.

"He wanted to walk the moon with me." He laughed at this, a hysterical edge creeping up the side of his voice. "He expected me to forgive him. Make peace. After he made off with my wife. Convinced her to abandon our son. You saw him. Damn sorry excuse for a person."

The teenager. Not a teenager. A young man.

That poor child, she thought.

"Couldn't look at him without seeing her," he said. "But managed to get through raising him. He'll be alright. But not if people find out what he's done."

"Your son?" Bella thought outloud.

"People don't react well when the man who stole your mother shows up. Ask your dad for forgiveness, in front of you. Don't even acknowledge you. Then yell at you to get them gas." He shook his head retelling this. "He's a smart kid. Offered to take him for a walk, listen to him." His voice grew husky with emotion, "If I'd known, I woulda stopped him, but...I never thought."

He looked up at her, his throat tight, jaw clenched. "I didn't protect him the first time, but I will now." He stared, his hands now firm firsts at his sides.

 _JUMP_ the voice roared, and Bella started at it.

John's head was shaking ever so slightly, side to side, as if he was disagreeing with himself. Or steeling himself for a decision.

He had.

His sprint towards her sudden, and Bella could feel the brush of a hand on her shirt as she finally pivoted and jumped, using the full force of her legs to give herself the clearance she needed to survive the fall.

The voice was going overtime. _The water will be cold, Bella, the shock will be hard. You need to swim._

And then, with the deafening crash of the water, and the minute blackness that took her, it was blessedly silent. The blackness did not last long though, and the surging breath she took as the waves caught her was nothing, as the water broke over her head.

Swim! The voice screeched at her, and she was, but it was becoming harder, the weight of her jeans sucking at her legs. The effort it was taking to keep her head out of the water was draining out her slowly, and as her legs slowed, her descent into the black water was speeding.

And then she stopped.

Just stopped, and let, with a final breath, the water close over her.

The cold, the exhaustion, were too much, and the painful flaring of the emptiness within sucked away at the last will to survive.

 _Why not?_

Edward's voice became clearer under the water, and the screeching to swim became a plea to live. _Please Bella, don't let go._

 _You did,_ she thought.

 _No, I haven't_ _,_ it said.

 _Liar._

But the thoughts were becoming less coherent, fading, and twisting, until the flickers of his face were all her mind could hold.

The sudden, sharp movement of air in her lungs was painful.

"Breathe!" Came another voice, this one hot, and insistent, as it blew into her mouth.

"Come on Bella, breathe for me!" And the rapid, thumping pain in her chest told her she was.

"Jacob?" She coughed, seeing his worried face over her.

"Thank God," he breathed.

She sucked in another desperate breath, this one to fuel her voice, "John! His son—they—"

"We know," Jacob said. "Paul and Embry have him. Sam and Embry overheard you both."

Bella's eyebrows furrowed, as she opened her mouth.

Jacob scooped her up, the heat of his body a relief against the shuddering cold that was beginning to convulse her. "They were coming towards you when you jumped. They'd been dealing with..something else, before that." He frowned, and his grip tightened.

Bella knew there was only one other kind of concern that would have kept them.

"Is she—?" She started.

"No, she got away," he shook his head. He looked like he was going to say more, but his mouth settled into a grim line.

An unprecedented exhaustion was seeping over Bella, as she fought to stay awake.

"It's OK, Bella, sleep. We'll be at my place soon."

And she was. Awake. In clean, dry clothes, not her own. Wrapped in a blanket, in Jacob's sister's room, on the bed.

A florid blush crept up her face, _had Jacob—?_

"Bella?" It was a woman's soft voice.

 _Emily_ , her mind supplied.

"You back with us?" The voice said, a warm hand on her arm.

"Yeah," Bella said quietly, sitting herself up. _Whoa, spinning room._ She settled back against the headboard.

"You were pretty out of it when Jacob got you here. It was hard to get you changed."

 _Oh_ , she thought. _Thank god._

"Sam called me, said something happened on the cliff," she prompted, tilting her head sideways.

"John—his son, he…" and she gulped, "killed Dwayne. I found the body, in his ice box. He said he wanted to explain—but he went to grab me, so I—"

Emily nodded, "No wonder you're shaky. Here—drink this, it'll help," and passed her a cup of tea, heavily sugared.

The heat felt good, as Bella sipped, letting her back relax, the slight shake to her hands easing.

"I should go," Emily said, standing, "Jacob's here. You need anything that only a woman can provide?" She grinned at Bella.

Bella gave a small smile back, and shook her head, "Thanks, Emily, I appreciate it."

As she left, Bella stood, shakily, and headed out into the living room, to face Jacob.

"Hey," he said, meeting her partway. "Don't fall down on me again. I think I've had enough of saving your ass for a day."

Bella gave a quiet, internal sigh. He was pretending this afternoon hadn't happened.

She did not deserve friends like this, she thought guiltily.

"Jacob—" she started.

"I think we should get you home, Bella," he said quietly. "Maybe I can drive you?" He raised his eyebrows, looking at her shaking hand.

"Yeah," she said, feeling the uneasy twist of her gut.

The drive was silent, and Bella thought about everything that had happened. She needed, she knew, to get some things clear, before Charlie got home.

"Jacob—" she tried again.

"Can we talk about it later?" he said too quickly.

"I need some answers, before Charlie comes home," she said evenly.

"Charlie's going to be home late, Bella. He's at Sue Clearwater's."

"I thought he was fishing? With your dad, and Harry?"

"They were," he said, "until Harry had a heart attack, Bella. He didn't make it."

"What?"

"Harry died, Bella. It was really sudden. They couldn't...do anything."

Jacob's hands were tight on the steering wheel.

"Oh," she said, not sure what else to say.

"There's something else you need to know, too," he said, his voice softer now.

"Godwin was on our lands—"

"Did you—?"

"No," he shook his head, "Victoria was there. He," Jacob shook his head to clear it, "he got in between her and you. Sam saw, when they were following her, before they saw you."

"He stopped her?" Bella wondered.

Jacob was slowing down, pulling over to the road's shoulder. He turned off the ignition. He nodded. "Yes, he did."

"And?"

"Sam said, when the clouds cleared, they both began to glimmer in the sunlight, but then, Godwin, he began—his hood came off as he was fighting—he began to smoke."

Jacob swallowed again. He could see it, in his mind's eye. Wisps of purple smoke curling off of Jacob's skin.

"He burned, Bella, as he fought her. He kept her from getting to you, but it was too much, she—" and he stopped, not wanting to describe what he'd seen in Sam's mind.

"Killed him," she finished the thought for him, remembering the sound of screeching metal. "Because of me," she added.

"No, don't you dare—"

"I'm not," she whispered, "but he did. For me."

"We'll get her, Bella. Don't worry. We'll stop her. She won't hurt you."

Bella nodded, her mind running to Godwin's fiery end, as she had escaped her watery one.

And Jacob had saved her too.

She wondered if he would again, from the pain that was slowly slicing up inside, its edges pushing outward, eating up her weary remnants.

"Please take me home, Jacob," she said, not daring to look at him.

He didn't answer, but started the car.

She looked up when the peripheral landscape became familiar. The front light was on. Had she left it on?

No, she hadn't, she realized.

And then she saw the car.

 _Carlisle's car._

"No, don't—" Jacob said, grabbing her arm. "There's a vampire inside." He stepped out of the car, and Bella followed. His arm caught her before she crossed to the steps.

"I said I would protect you, and I meant it, Bella."

"That's Carlisle's car, Jacob." There was a desperate edge as she spoke, a sharpness he wasn't used to.

Anger flared in him. "It could be a trick—easily!" His grip tightened. She flinched at it, and he forced himself to loosen it, a shaking anger rolling up him.

They stared at each other, a silent war waging between them. The pull away won, and Bella turned, looking at her front steps.

"Jacob, I can't _not_ check. It might be them." Her voice shook with nerves, with hope, and the knowledge that she was abandoning her friend.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

And she turned, one bridge burned behind her, and another, built of hopeful imagination before her, and walked away.

~ The End ~

* * *

Author's notes: Well folks, I hope you've enjoyed this tale. I've certainly enjoyed writing it. If you want to know where it goes from here, it's straight back into New Moon, in the chapter Visitor.

December 24, 2017: I just wrote a one shot that features Bella and Jacob fulfilling all of Jacob's desires (smoochy, sexy goodness). A reader suggested it would make a nice alternative ending to this story. It's called "No need for Explanations." Perhaps you will enjoy it after all of this.

As I've moved towards this last chapter, I've wondered unsuccessfully how I might incorporate the lyrics to Florence and the Machine's "Never Let Me Go into it", because they seem so apt to Bella's state of mind in the water. All the ways I could think of adding it seemed trite, so I've included the verses below for your enjoyment. If there's something you've liked in this story, I'd love to hear by PM, or comment. Thank you for reading!

"Never Let Me Go"

By Florence & The Machine

Looking up from underneath  
Fractured moonlight on the sea  
Reflections still look the same to me  
As before I went under

And it's peaceful in the deep  
'Cause either way you cannot breathe  
No need to pray, no need to speak  
Now I am under

Oh, and it's breaking over me  
A thousand miles out to the sea bed  
Found the place to rest my head

Never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me  
And all this devotion was rushing over me  
And the questions I have for a sinner like me  
But the arms of the ocean deliver me

Though the pressure's hard to take  
It's the only way I can escape  
It seems a heavy choice to make  
But now I am under, oh

And it's breaking over me  
A thousand miles down to the sea bed  
I found the place to rest my head

Never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me  
(So cold and so sweet)  
And all this devotion was rushing out of me  
And the questions I have for a sinner like me  
But the arms of the ocean deliver me

And it's over and I'm going under  
But I'm not giving up  
I'm just giving in

Oh, slipping underneath  
So cold and so sweet

In the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold  
And all this devotion, well, I never knew at all  
And the questions I have for a sinner released  
In the arms of the ocean deliver me

Never let me go

Deliver me

And it's over  
I'm going under  
But I'm not giving up  
I'm just giving in

Ah, slipping underneath  
Wooh, so cold, but so sweet


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Move!" She hissed, as he blocked her, darting back and forth, matching her movements. "What is she to you, anyway?" Victoria spat out, taking a sharp turn, but blocked again.

"She is a child," he answered evenly. "What is she to you?"

"Her mate killed mine!" She lunged at him, her fingers slicing at the fabric of his coat.

"Then kill her mate," he said, dodging another swipe. Victoria snarled in response.

The clouds were thinning, and small tendrils of purple smoke were curling up from the cuts in his coat.

Victoria hissed, taking a step backwards.

"What are you?" she whispered, her eyes moving rapidly, assessing this new danger.

"I am just like you," he said, blocking her way again. She roared in frustration.

Watching the tendrils thicken, she leapt over him, and cut the fabric of his hood with a flick of her fingernail. The sunlight poured over him, and he felt the heat begin in earnest.

A loud, distant splash, and a hurling, snarling roar told him all he needed to know, and he stopped, laughter bubbling through his chest, "I'm coming Jakob!"

He felt the edge of her teeth, and then, finally, a blissful nothingness.

And Victoria, thwarted again, fled.

* * *

 **Author's notes** : And now, you all know where the title came from. Thanks for the encouragement, and engagement as I wrote - much appreciated. If you have a story idea, I would love to hear it. This story was inspired by a comment on another story, so suggest away!


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